


Blood of the Covenant

by Sybariticfanfiction (SybariticReyna)



Series: Avaricious [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian Dovahkiin, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Multiple LBGT Characters, Past Abuse, Sibling Bonding, Slow Burn, fight me, im the one who's hurt and I wrote this to comfort myself, shes gay my dudes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-20 14:58:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9497102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SybariticReyna/pseuds/Sybariticfanfiction
Summary: Vilkas doesn't need another sibling to fret over, but conversations that take place much too early in the morning have a way of bringing people together





	1. Chapter 1

She's on the roof again.

If he weren't already in a horrible, sleep deprived state, Vilkas is sure that would annoy him enough to sour his mood. But for now, he just sorts it into his mental "strange things the Whelp does" folder and returns to training. He'll never claim to be the best with a bow, but Aela has been criticizing his lack of variety.

He isn't quite sure what time it is when his arms begin to tire, but its long enough that he finds it strange she's still up there when he's done.

She's stretched across the highest beam, one leg hanging precariously off while she stares up at the stars. Instead of a pillow she's got her backpack, which, from how heavy it sounds when she puts it down, cannot be comfortable. The moonslight casts a very odd glow on the youngest Companion, and if it were anyone else but Vilkas, they might say she looks ethereal.

But it is Vilkas, and he finds her flair for dramatics exhausting.

"When do you plan on sleeping, whelp?" He calls.

If not for the beast blood, he wouldn't have been able to hear the sarcastic, "When I'm dead, probably."

He has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. _So she does have a backbone_. With the way she gets around Skjor and Aela, he wasn't sure.

Unaware, or maybe purposefully trying to brush over her own sass, she adds, "I'm just... Thinking."

The way she says it sends warning bells off in her Shield Brother's head, despite the stubborn part of him saying he shouldn't care, we hate her. Vilkas isn't quite sure what compels him to ask, "You want a drink?"

She looks over at him (or at his blurry figure, in her human eyes), curious and cautious. "You know I don't drink."

 _Shit_. He feels frustration curl in his chest. Of course the one time he tries to be civil to the whelp, he forgets about one of the first things he learned about her. "Tea." He huffs. "To help you fall asleep."

She pauses, taking a deep breath before agreeing, "Sure. I'll be down in a sec."

Vilkas has always hated watching her get down, because she does it in such an impossible way that he's convinced it's some kind of obscure magic. How can she be so sure footed that her hundred pound bag doesn't send her skiddering down the incline?

She drops said bag before jumping down from the lip of the roof to the floor, rolling as to prevent broken ankles, and Vilkas takes it upon himself to help her to her feet afterwards. Her murmured thanks is cautious, as if she expects some kind of betrayal. Maybe she does.

He'll be the first to admit he isn't the nicest to her, and he still can't pinpoint what he doesn't like aside from the all encompassing "everything", but he didn't think he was being that harsh.

(Later he'll go back over every conversation they've had that he can remember and he'll curse himself for hurting her)

She gets a fire started while he grabs cups and the tea. It's a kind that Njada likes, imported from the Bosmer hunters specially for her, but he's sure she won't mind. And, if she does, its not like she can best Vilkas in a fight.

Vilkas is only a little suspicious when he returns to find the fire roaring, but strange things are par for course where the whelp is concerned.

Speaking of...

"Have you decided on a name yet?" He asks, setting a mug down next to her. She gave no name when she arrived, and only when prodded by Kodlack did she admit she's choosing a new name for her life in Skyrim. She explained why to him too, although he wouldn't divulge that information afterwards to the Circle, and the look in his eyes told Vilkas it wasn't as much suspect as it was sad.

She smiles, "No, but I've narrowed it down quite a bit."

"That why you were...?" He makes a vague motion upwards.

"No, I was... Thinking, I guess." She looks down at the empty cup in her hands, drumming her fingers along the side. "Did you know I help out at the Temple of Mara in Riften?"

He doesn't like where this is going. "I did not."

She takes a deep breath. "Did you know that... That same gender marriage, where I come from, was illegal until very recently? And that, even now that its legal, you can still get fired or turned away from stores for saying like "my girlfriend" or "my wife"?"

Vilkas is torn between "oh thank the gods I don't have to give romantic advice" and "what _the fuck_."

In the end, its the more reasonable one that wins out. " _What?"_

"Yeah, they... They're not as accepting over there. So when I was told I had to help this couple get past their silly miscommunication issues and they were two guys, I just... I was, I am, just so happy. I can't believe that the Goddess of Love herself wanted to help these two. It's so... Different. It's wonderful!"

Vilkas struggles to wrap his mind around marriage being illegal while she babbles on heedlessly.

"Like, like back home--" home is a word that shouldn't have such bitterness, Vilkas thinks-- "it was dangerous, and its just really amazing to learn that I can say I'm gay! Without, you know, fear. I'm a lesbian! I love girls, they're so pretty! And I was just thinking that like, there's a whole new world open for me now. I can date and do normal stuff like that without being afraid now. _I can date!_ " She wipes at her eyes, and Vilkas abruptly realizes she's crying.

It's good crying though, he notices after a moment. It's the kind caused by being so overwhelmed by happiness that you can't contain it.

"Whe-- Sister." He sighs, grabbing the nearest clean(ish) dinner cloth.

She takes it with an embarrassed laugh, "Sorry, I'm like half asleep, and I'm still..."

"Overjoyed?" He supplies.

She nods, "And relieved. I thought... I thought for most of my life, even if I did fall in love, I wouldn't be able to get married." Her voice is nothing short of wounded.

Vilkas isn't an obvious romantic, nor has he ever felt the need to go buy an amulet of Mara, but that? That little confession hits him like a kick in the chest. Those words hit _his wolf_ like a kick in the chest. And given her expression, that's not even the worst of it.

But tonight is not the night for talk of parents and trauma caused by them.

Tonight is, instead, the night that she says, in a voice more befitting of a hopeful teenager than the Dragonborn, "You think Aela would go on a date with me?"

Vilkas laughs until she's sending him a reproachful glare, demanding, "What?"

"We're not Breton, we don't date." He explains, still chuckling. "I thought you helped couples?"

She rolls her eyes, "I do! Usually I just have to tell them to stop being idiots though. Well, there was that one time with the ghosts, but I digress."

"Oh, no, tell me about these ghosts." He says, moving to fill their cups with the now boiling water.

She launches into a long story about confused ghosts and even more confused Dragonborn's that doesn't fail to make Vilkas chuckle multiple times. She's a surprisingly good story teller. He never even knew.

"They just sorta ascended after they met back up? Like, I must've looked like a complete weirdo, just staring up at the sun for a good five minutes like--" she does an impersonation of herself, squinty eyed with her mouth pulled into a frown. "What the hell? Because they didn't fully leave! They just sorta floated there, lookin all lovestruck."

"We should visit them, see if they're still floating." Vilkas says.

"Pfffft," She laughs with her whole body, her chest shaking and legs curling up under the chair, her arms wrapping around her stomach of their own accord, as if to contain her own laughter.

The rush of affection that image causes Vilkas to frown. He already has one sibling he's constantly worried about. He doesn't need this... Runt. But she needs a family. That much is obvious.

She's still muttering "Visit the floating ghost people" when Skjor and Aela get back home, both of them still wide eyed from their hunt. They enter quietly, like they always do, but there's no way to sneak around someone(s) in the main room.

Vilkas can almost forgive them for interrupting this Bonding Moment, if only for the downright shell shocked looks on their faces. He understands. It's still strange for him to be having a friendly conversation with the whelp, and they don't know the half of it.

"Didn't mean to interrupt." Aela says after she recovers, flashing a grin.

"Oh, no, this isn't-- you're not interrupting anything! We were just--" What he previously assumed was anxiousness from being around Aela is so obviously a crush now that he knows.

"Actually, Aela, if you're not too tired from your... Training, the whelp has a mission she needs a partner for. Farkas and I were planning on going hunting." Vilkas says, mentally going over which missions he actually does have that could require two people. Aela will know something's awry if he gives them an easy job.

She looks like she's thinking something's wrong as is, anyway. "Why can't one of th--"

"Aela." Skjor says, looking at Vilkas. "Give her a chance. You always complain about not having enough archers to hunt with."

The whelp is also looking at Vilkas, but its with the most heated glare he's ever received. Impressive, given how many glares he's gotten.

(It is probably this glare that makes it so easy for him to accept she's the Dragonborn, even though that fact only comes to light weeks later, while explaining why she likes high places so much)

"What are you doing?" She hisses, low enough that even his fellow werewolves would have trouble hearing her.

He simply smirks. "Being a good brother."

The title is enough to make her face soften, shock and affection and embarrassed all at once. "Oh."


	2. Chapter 2

Aela can hear her heartbeat. It pounds a mile a minute almost every time she's nearby, and honestly, Aela cannot figure out why.

This pattern seems to be holding true when they set out for their mission (which, she does agree is above the whelp's pay grade. Some poor fool of an adventurer got himself stuck in a dwemer ruin).

 _Maybe she should call herself Rabbit-heart,_ Aela thinks amusedly. She almost says it out loud, but quickly decides starting a feud with the twins would be an annoying waste of time. And she has no doubt that they would take offense to their honorary sister being called a rabbit, regardless if the girl in question did. 

Her rather abrupt friendship with Vilkas took everyone and no one by surprise, given her closeness with Farkas. The three of them have been barely seen without each other since (granted it only took Aela and the whelp a day to get their things together for a long mission).

Aela still doesn't know what the driving force behind their sudden bond was, and neither twin will fess up. Vilkas simply gets irritable and shuts down when pressed, while Farkas got all protective.

Aela can only conclude that it wasn't a mutual love for history that brought them together, but pain.

The Whelp looks well enough now, at least. Her heart only returns to a normal tempo after they get out of Whiterun, the fresh air seeming to calm her. Her hair, blonde and brown and what looks almost like pale pink, is pulled up in a messy bun, made for keeping it out of her face instead of aesthetics. Aela will be sure to ask Njada to swallow her pride and teach her to make a proper braid when they return.

She doesn't have a warriors face, despite her rather impressive skill. She's just too _pretty_. Her smile alone was enough to win over the less dedicated Companion's, while the mystery of being foreign and without a name has ensnared many others.

"Have you picked a name yet?" Aela asks.

The whelp sighs as if that's a question she's been hearing all too often. "I've been... Throwing around a few." She says, her hand moving back not to grab her bow, but to simply feel it. It's a motion of comfort that Aela recognizes. Even in non-violent situations, having something to protect oneself can put you at ease.

Aela is not one for tip toeing around things, and simply asks, "May I hear them?"

She pauses, glancing over at her Shield sister curiously. "...I like Alex, and Blake, and maybe Ruby? I thought about doing something, like, more... Nordic so I fit in better but, that just seems silly, seeing as I'll probably never fit in." She makes a vague motion to herself, trying to call attention to her dark skin tone, most likely. She's not a Redguard, but she could certainly be confused for an Imperial. 

"I agree. You shouldn't choose a name based on how strangers will perceive you. You are a Companion of Jorrvaskr, if that is not enough for them to accept you as their own, they are not worthy of your time." Aela responds.

Her lips twist up into a rueful grin. "You're so confident." She says quietly.

The redhead snorts. "You have every reason to be as well. What are you afraid of?"

She doesn't hesitate to say, "Everything." The word is matter-of-fact and tinged with desperation. "I'm so scared of letting everyone down. If I fail..."

Aela has no idea what kind of beast she just poked. "If you fail, the rest of us will pick you up." She says, trying to reassure her.

She laughs and its such a bitter sound Aela can taste it. "Thank you," She says, without explaining any further.

The rest of the way to the ruins is mostly silent, with both of them consumed by their thoughts. The whelp, with her future and how being Dragonborn fits into everything, and Aela with trying to make sense of the riddle that is her newest shield sister.

She can handle her own in a fight, and does better than most newbies at protecting Aela while she's got her bow drawn. Long range fighters are _always_ to be protected.

She only uses her own bow for stealth attacks (and Aela must admit she would be very well suited for that kind of work). Despite her close relationship with twins, she fights nothing like them. She's lithe and fast where the twins are heavy hitting.

And also unlike the twins, she still gets excited when they win a fight, looking to Aela for approval. Aela can't remember if she looks at everyone like that, but its charming regardless. It's _endearing_ , even.

Aela has a new found respect for the girl by the time they return the would-be adventurer to his wife, but she still chides her when she begins crying just as hard as the couple.

"I'm just so happy that they're happy!" She explains, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

Aela rolls her eyes and wraps one arm around the whelp, yanking her into a hug. "There, there," Although the words are mocking, the way Aela rubs her back is nonetheless calming.

His wife (Aela can't quite remember her name, or if Vilkas ever mentioned it in the first place) laughs when she notices that the whelp is also crying, apologizing, "Oh, I didn't mean to upset you too. Here's your pay, and thank you."

Aela raises an eyebrow. "Vilkas didn't charge beforehand?"

She seems flustered, "He did, but you can consider this a bonus. I half expected someone to turn up just to tell me he's dead. Foolish man."

"I did get enough gemstones to set us up for the next season," He has the decency to look ashamed at least, and the whelp giggles against Aela's collarbone.

Aela glances down at her with a grin, "What do you think? Should we take this 'bonus'?"

"I'm inherently biased." She says. "Dov are extremely avaricious."

What an odd thing to say. Dov? Aela struggles to remember where she's heard that word, or the word after that. "Ava--"

"I insist." Their client says, pressing a bag of coins into Aela's free hand.

The still confused werewolf accepts the gold with grace, and the couple only linger a few minutes to say goodbye and wish them fair travels before making a break for their house (presumably for a proper reintroduction).

The whelp has long since stopped crying, but she still keeps herself close, hands balled against Aela's stomach and head still on her shoulder.

"Are we going then, whelp?" Aela asks curiously. Standing in the middle of someone's garden is rather awkward, after all.

"Oh!" She jumps back, cheeks reddening, "Uh. Sorry, I was just... I like hugging you?"

Well... While certainly not the explanation she expected, she can't say its not a nice thing to hear. Aela laughs, "You can hug me back home, whelp."

Her eyes go wide. "I can?"

"You hug the twins and Ria, don't you?"

That seems to temper her reaction a bit, and Aela can't help but wonder why. "Well, yeah but..." Her voice gets quieter, "They're not you."

"I am still one of your Shield Sisters. There is no need to be so fearful." Aela brings a hand to her jaw, gently tilting her face up to look at her directly. "Farkas is not the only one willing to die for you. Stop acting as if he is."

For a moment it looks like she's going to begin crying again, even as a shaky smile appears. "Thank you. You're right."

"Of course I am," Aela responds, grinning wolfishly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all rainy and nice outside but I mcfricken broke my glasses so I can't properly enjoy the view.
> 
> Why am I so blind 
> 
> Why does the Dovahkiin cry so much 
> 
> The world may never know


	3. Chapter 3

The Whelp is late.

Three days late, in fact.

Farkas finds himself pacing as the sun rises, something like anxiety rendering him unable to sleep. Vilkas had a similar problem, but he was injured on his late mission (nothing big, only few broken fingers) and Danica gave him a sleeping drought. To keep him from moving too much, she said, but they know its really because she stresses over their sleeping issues. If only she knew.

So while his brother is in a blissfully medicated sleep, Farkas paces relentlessly. His wolf is snapping at him to shift, to find her scent and drag her back home, but that's not really an option.

Especially considering she left a week ago. Her scent would be muddled and confusing if it could be found at all.

Farkas doesn't understand why he's the only one worried. Aela and Skjor both seem to think that she's simply taking her time with this mission (and his argument that she doesn't take her time with _anything_ falls on deaf ears), while Kodlack simply tells him that she's stronger than he gives her credit for.

As if strength has anything to do with dying of dehydration.

Or being mauled by a bear. She hates bears.

Or getting caught in a trap (which he'll add, he has personally seen her do).

Or--

"Are you still worrying about that whelp?" Njada's voice stops him before he can come up with any other terrible situation. She's got an annoyingly amused smile on her face when he glances up, like this is _fun_ for her.

She's lucky he doesn't growl. "Yes."

"Maybe she's just ditched. Wouldn't be the first whelp to--"

"Are you looking for a fight?" He interrupts, hands curling into fists. "Because I'm in the mood to oblige."

For a moment she looks like she'll take him up on it, only to back down. "Sorry." She exclaims, half sarcastic. "Touchy subject, I see."

"She's..." _Traumatized and too important to me?_ Farkas sighs. No. Although some vindictive part of him really does want to tell Njada why he cares so much just to see her eyes cloud over with guilt (and gods, would she feel guilty), its not his story to tell and that's not who he is.

But it would be so satisfying to see her fall over herself trying to be _nice_ to the whelp. His wolf agrees whole heartedly, and that's enough to assure himself that would be _bad_.

The others trickle in as the morning progresses, most of them unsurprised to see Farkas. It's been three days, after all. Kodlack claps him on the shoulder as he passes, "She'll be back."

"Unscathed?"

The Harbinger sighs. "I can't promise you that."

Of course not. Farkas huffs.

"But if you need something to do, you could go down to the Drunken Huntsmen and get the usual hunting supplies." He words it like a suggestion, but Farkas knows its an order.

An order he reluctantly agrees with, trying to use the distraction to calm down. Even a little.

He's debating whether or not he should get Aela some ebony arrows (a luxury she adores but rarely indulges herself in) when he hears the whelp's voice, loudly demanding someone to put her down.

He leaves the Bosmer hunter looking tragically hopeful, throwing the doors open to find his sister and her housecarl just inside the gate. Lydia, he thinks her name is, has (who he assumes to be) the whelp on her back. Her armor is smeared with blood and ash, but she looks relatively unscathed aside from obvious exhaustion. 

That's the most worrying part, honestly.

Two arms are slung around her shoulders, one with disturbingly deep scratches across the forearm. The smell confirms it's definitely the whelp he's looking at, their familiar ash-and-mountain-flower scent nearly buried under the smell of blood and char.

"Mara help me." Is all he can manage before he's moving to help Lydia, giving her a weak smile to assure he's here to help.

Her face breaks into a breathtakingly relieved smile, and he wonders how far she's had to carry the whelp. He pulls her off Lydia's back gently, not quite sure where her injuries lay.

"I can stand." She says hotly. "Just help me-- Farkas?"

"Nice to see ya back home." He replies, not bothering to try allowing her to walk alone. He picks her up princess style.

"It's good to be back." She's surprisingly lucid for being covered in blood.

Farkas can see her injuries better now, making out scorch marks on her armor and a distressingly large wound stretching starting from her shoulder and stretching down her chest. It only takes him a moment to put two and two together to realize she tried blocking bare handed. Blocking something very large, and most likely clawed, bare handed.

Shit.

"Dianca or Athis?" He asks quietly, knowing she doesn't like going to see the local Priestess. Something about trying to convert her.

"Athis." Is her immediate reply. "Please."

"What did this? Is it dead?" His voice leaves no question of whether or not he'd go out and find it if it isn't dead.

"Oh, yes. She is very dead, brother." Her laughter is a gift, even when she gasps in pain afterwards. Her uninjured right hand flies to her chest, feeling around the edges of the wound.

"She?"

When his dear sister only responds by smiling (a dizzy smile that makes Farkas think her adrenaline is running out), Lydia cuts in to say, "A dragon. Scales and bones in my pack if you need proof."

"You fought a dragon?"

"You sound surprised." Lydia hums. "Do you not..."

"I haven't told em. Please don't, Lydia. I'm the whelp." Her sentences are disjointed and awkward, but Lydia seems to understand well enough.

"Of course, my Thane. But you will have to eventually."

Farkas pretends not to hear it, instead focusing on getting up the many inclines of Whiterun without jostling her too much. The rest of the short trip to Jorrvaskr is quiet, most townsfolk knowing better than to ask an injured Companion if they need help.

"Athis!" Farkas shouts as soon as Lydia opens the door.

Inside, Torvar is casually sipping his ale and Kodlack is eating an early lunch. Everyone else is probably out back, but the sound of Farkas yelling will no doubt get them curious.

Torvar chokes on his drink when he sees the state the whelp is in, while Kodlack is immediately on his feet and clearing a space on the table for her. "Can you sit up?" He asks, voice much calmer than his face.

"I'm fine." She says, waving her hand dismissively. There's... Something in the way she says it that makes him think she is not entirely herself at the moment. Something oddly familiar.

Torvar snorts as he helps Farkas set her down on the table, "Even I know that's a lie."

"You know nothing of Dov." Is her answer, the words slurred but harsh.

Kodlack gives her a hard look. "He is right. Don't allow your _pride_ to bleed you to death."

If anything, that seems to piss her off even more, but Farkas is far too worried and confused to wonder why she's unusually angry. Lydia seems resigned to it, and whispers an apology to Kodlack as Athis heals the whelp as best he can. He's not the best (he says) at restoration magic, but he surpasses everyone else in Jorrvaskr.

With her armor somewhere on the floor in a bloody heap, Farkas sees that it was certainly not a pair of claws that got to her like he originally assumed. One swipe wouldn't create that many ribbons. It's a bite mark, one that must've dragged when she either got away or the dragon pulled back. There's even some on her back, and Farkas gets the genuinely horrifying mental image of a dragon trying to pick her up by the shoulder.

The others have trickled in by then, all watching with a morbid sort of curiosity. The whelp is nearly unconscious, only lucid enough to grab onto Farkas and slur, "Stay with me. Please." He obliges her, staying until Athis declares her as healed as he can manage.

The wounds are still there, but the blood has clotted and it doesn't look quite so deep. Farkas carries her down to the living area, making the decision to keep her in his room. The bed is comfier and much more trustworthy than the shared beds. Getting an infection because the last person who slept there didn't wash would be a terrible fate.

She seems to let go of her anger when he sets her down. The fire is replaced by contentment, and sleepy thank you's.

"It's nothing, sister." He replies, moving to grab a few extra blankets. And Vilkas said hoarding blankets was ridiculous. Showed him.

He's almost all set up on the floor when the whelp speaks again, her voice small and shakey. "I'm sorry about being mean to Kodlack. It's just that... It's hard to be in control when I'm like this."

"What are you talking about?" Farkas feels a pang of guilt as soon as the words leave his mouth. It feels like he's taking advantage of her injury because she's so out of it. Most likely because of blood loss.

"The dragons won't _shut up_." She says, shifting towards the edge if the bed so she can hold out her hand.

Farkas takes it with some confusion. "Go to sleep, sister."

* * *

 Vilkas shuffles into his brother's room fully intending to steal a bottle of spiced ale, only to find his twin on the floor and the whelp (covered in bandages) in the bed. They're holding hands, and Vilkas can only imagine how awkwardly that's going to cramp when they wake up.

Or, when Farkas wakes up, seeing as the whelp meets his gaze. She's hardly what he'd call _awake_ , given her half lidded eyes and downright confused expression. "Vilkas?" She says, rough and soft. Very unlike her normal voice.

He grabs her a glass of cider along with his drink, and settles onto the foot of the bed. The whelp shifts to accommodate, wincing as she sits up. He's fairly certain he hears the word "Fuck," leave her mouth, but he can hardly comment seeing how often he's sworn the past week.

"Here." He says, handing her the cider.

"Thanks." She tries to smile, but its obvious her wounds are still giving her trouble.

He waits until she's taken a few sips to comment, "So it appears we're both injured."

"What happened to you?" She asks, glancing at his hand.

"Bandit smashed it with a mace. Trying to get me to drop my weapon."

She seems impressed, doing that shoulder wiggle thing she does. It's a cute little movement, one that he finds only makes it more obvious she should be... Not here. She's younger than Ria even, and she's got so much more going on (most of which even he is not privy to). "Does it hurt still? Did you break anything?"

"First two fingers." He says, allowing her to take his hand. She runs her fingers over the splint, gentle and more curious than anything else. "What about you?"

"Ha." She says humorlessly. "I'm an idiot? I tried to get away to heal and got grabbed. Which isn't the best strategy, especially against the toughest thing in Tamriel. Aside from you two, at least." She jokes.

"And what would you consider the toughest thing in Tamriel?" A troll, maybe? The whelp can't even do the simplest of spells, and without fire trolls are a huge pain.

She looks down at his hand, hesitating. "A dragon."

" _What!?_ " The sudden increase in volume is enough to both make the whelp flinch (and-oh-fuck does that do something horrible to his heart) and to have Farkas growling. It's a lazy noise, not one of threat but of annoyance.

He quiets down again, now anxiously glancing between her bandages and her face. "You fought a dragon? Why? Where? How?"

"Because it attacked us?" Is her answer. "Not too far away from here, actually. Lydia carried me home. I made sure she didn't get hurt but... Oh boy." She looks like she wants to hide. She has a tendency to do that, although its become less often now that her Shield Siblings have stopped questioning the odd things she does.

So its not a matter of "she has less secrets" as it is "they don't ask as much."

Vilkas feels that distinction is a very important one, and that somehow dragons are related to her secrets. She did appear around the same time as the dragons too... But that's a train of thought to be explored later, when she's not trembling in fear. 

"I don't understand why you keep secrets like you do, but for what it's worth I consider you my sister the same way I consider Farkas my brother. Not in a Shield-Sibling, sense, I mean." He finally says, trying to assuage some of her fears. Farkas was always better at this sort of thing.

Her smile this time is honest, and it feel like a weight has been lifted off his chest. "I know." She says, straightening her shoulder proudly. "And I'll explain all this nonsense when I can, I just... I don't want to endanger you, for one, and also... Is it weird I like being the whelp? I like being treated like the newbie."

"You did repress a lot of positive emotions during your childhood." Vilkas answers with a shrug. A rather harsh statement, but only if it weren't true and something they've discussed before. Due to her 'internalized homophobia', she calls it, she spent a lot of time hate herself and her feelings towards other girls, to the point she got stressed over friendships.

Vilkas can't imagine how horrible it must be to have your first crush and think its _sinful_. That its wrong.

"I did." She agrees. "I was scared."

He isn't quite sure how to respond, and some part of him wants to just hug her, but in addition to being a little much, they're both injured. Not a great plan.

"It's... Ironic, right? That I've never felt safer, more secure than while surrounded by werewolves?" She laughs, looking over at where Farkas still lays.

Vilkas rolls his eyes. "My wolf would like you to know he finds you annoying."

"Rude."

"But he would protect you with his life."

That makes her light up, all smiles and laughter and a teasing, "I love you too." She shifts closer, slinging her good arm around his neck and pressing her side against his chest. "I missed you, by the way."

"I was asleep for the last few days, but I did miss you." He replies. "Farkas was beside himself."

"Ohhh," She says it like a whine, smiling even as she looks sadly over at Farkas. "Babe."

Vilkas snorts. "Is that an insult or an endearment?"

"Endearment. Baby can be used as an insult like 'milk-drinker' but babe is typically only an endearment. Same as mami or papi." She says, her accent becoming more obvious. She doesn't really seem aware of it.

"Mami? Like mother?"

She laughs. "Sort of? You can use it for your parents, but its also used for kids as like, an affectionate term. My cousins use it more than we did. I always loved visiting them because they were so much fun and they saw me as this... Amazing creature, like they looked up to me. And I loved babying them. Like, I'd pick em up and they were _shook_ , like I'm super strong or something."

It's nice to hear her recalling positive things, even better with how happily embarrassed she looks.

"Do you want kids?" He asks curiously.

"Mmmmmm..." She makes a face. "I don't know? Yes? I want kids but I'm also very scared of being like my parents, if that makes sense."

"It does, but I can't ever imagine you purposefully hurting anyone, let alone a child."

"Mmm." She hums. "What would I name them?"

"Vilkas." He replies immediately. "In honor of their favorite uncle."

Farkas, who by the looks of it has been awake for a while, says, " _Excuse me_?"

The whelp jumps at the sound of his voice, only to laugh at his peeved expression. "Good morning." She says.

"Morning." He responds, keeping his eyes on Vilkas as he gets to his feet. "Are you sure you wanna start a fight with those broke fingers?"

"You're right. And I have a milk-drinker in my lap." He responds with a grin.

"Hey!" The whelp hisses, puffing her cheeks out childishly. "You're a jerk, you know that?"

"What a cutting insult. Careful, whelp, I'll look like you if you keep that up." He places a hand over his heart as if wounded.

"You sarcastic son of a gun." She says, holding her hands out for Farkas. He helps her get on her feet without straining too much, and offers an arm to lean on when she does get up.

"I'm surprised you didn't go for sarcastic son of a bitch, seeing as we are werewolves." Vilkas notes, watching them interact with no small amount of affection. Not that he'd ever say it out loud.

"If we're siblings then your mom is my mom, and although I never met her, I'm sure she was a wonderful lady." She says, smiling at the two of them. "And I have mad respect for anyone who carries twins, let alone you two."

"You make a fair point." Vilkas laughs. "Although we weren't nearly as big as we now."

She narrows her eyes as if she can't quite picture the two of them as anything but the giant Nords in front of her, only to shrug it off. "Come on. I'm hungry."

"You can't eat sweet rolls for breakfast this time." Vilkas says as he follows their lead.

She gasps. "What the hell, man, I thought we were bros."

"You're healing." Farkas sounds personally affronted. "From a dragon attack."

Her lips tilt up into an all too smug grin. "Okay, but, what makes you think this is my first time recovering from a dragon attack?"

"Even if its not," His tone makes it very clear he thinks she's being fictitious, "You need protein to recover."

"You and your protein." She shakes her head and allows Farkas to open the door for her (looking over her shoulder at Vilkas as he does).

Vilkas understands the silent request, scooping the whelp up into his arms. She squawks in surprise and nearly tries to grab at him before she remembers her arm is injured.

How much annoyance she manages to pack into one expression in truly a work of art, although its short lived. The people still getting breakfast greet them with a chorus of good mornings and how-are-you-feeling's.

She stutters through her answer, while the brothers are just amused. Vilkas sets her down in a noticeably empty seat next to Aela, and waits patiently while she fixes him a plate ("you're injured too, dumbass.").

"Whelp, twins." Aela greets with a feral grin. "Sorry for not greeting you upon arrival, girly. I was out."

The twins exchange glances. Girly?

"So was I." The whelp giggles. "Although in a different sense."

"So I heard. Came in here covered in blood, right?" Aela sounds impressed. "Can't say I've ever hunted a dragon."

She seems to be debating something before she says, "The hardest part is bringing them down. When they're flying its much harder. And they Shout like its nothing."

Aela tilts her head curiously, but doesn't question it.

The whelp doesn't offer explanation either, only saying, "Oh! I wanted to... Um... Dammit." A steady blush overtakes her features as she reaches for a glass. "Hey!" She clanks her fork against the glass and takes a deep breath as the main hall quiets.

"What are you..." Aela says, smiling amusedly.

"Aela reminded me of a decision I made so... I picked out my name if any of you wanna hear it?"

"Tell us!" Ria demands. She's echoed by several others, including a smiling Kodlack.

"Okay, okay, so... How's Ava?"

Her Shield Siblings are quick to assure her that Ava is a _perfect_ name, while Aela covers her face with a hand and _laughs_. 'Ava-ricious' she mouths, recognizing its origin immediately.

Hircine help her, if she's not careful she'll end up falling for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo
> 
> longest chapter yet
> 
> I'm so tired of ppl protraying Farkas as super dense bc he isn't book smart so I wanna make it clear I headcanon him as super good with reading situations and people in general (I mean he's got 100 speech in game wtf). He's a different kind of smart, compared to Vilkas. 
> 
> Vilkas is hopelessly confused by people and it usually leads to snapping at them. 
> 
> Poor thing 
> 
> (Also minor spoiler to explain Farkas' train of thought a little better,, Njada has two moms, and hearing that her taunts remind Ava of her homophobia-based abuse is going to Hurt. He doesn't go thru with it bc that'd be cruel and again, not his place to be telling ppl) 
> 
> But speaking of Ava!!! we finally have a name! What do y'all think?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sibling bonding (now in Riften) 
> 
> itty bitty warning for implied conversion therapy (and the after effects that has on Ava) like seriously it's only one line. We may or may not get deeper into that later but Ava isn't quite ready for that

  
Ava is itching to leave by day two of her ordered bed rest. Even when she's doing as she's told, sitting down and watching while the others spar, she's tapping her fingers or glancing at the door, as if being in one place too long pains her more than the massive wounds decorating her shoulder. 

She even smells anxious, although it's harder to pick up on when her scent is still so thoroughly drenched in blood. The ashy smell is back too, and the flowers return when she begins mixing potions. She gave Farkas one earlier that tasted like dirt and mint and made his armor feel nearly weightless. She seemed pleased when he told her this, but only for a few minutes.

  
The anxiety that clings to their sister isn't something they can overlook, but it's not something she seems very forthcoming about either.

"I have things to do," She says, hand moving to her bandage. She doesn't do anything, but Vilkas flinches anyway, a vivid mental image of Ava reopening her wounds in his mind.

  
It's a silly thought, but one that haunts him whenever she prodes at the bandages.

  
Surprisingly, Aela's attempts at helping her only make it worse, with Ava falling all over herself to assure she'll try to get better soon so that they can have archery lessons together. Which is certainly not what she meant. The redhead doesn't seem to know how to fix it from there, prompting Farkas to intervene before it gets any worse.

  
"She doesn't want you to get better so you can train together." He says later, exhaustion on his face as he pulls Ava closer. She refuses to go back to her own bed, claiming that Farkas' is comfier, and Farkas refuses to sleep on the floor again.

  
(And neither of them really mind being close, Farkas because he spent most of his childhood automatically paired with his twin and Ava because she's... Ava. The phrase she uses is 'touch starved'. Her adjustment to how touchy Nords are wasn't so much of an adjustment as it was Ava wholeheartedly embracing the idea)

  
And sometimes she wakes him up reeking of fear and Farkas realizes he's never been more thankful that she's a brat when it comes to bedding. She won't or can't tell him what the nightmares are about, but he'll catch bits and pieces as she calms down. It only clicks into place when she mentions "physical therapy" to Skjor, while the older werewolf tries to help her get her shoulder back in shape.

  
If Farkas becomes even more protective after that, well, it's hardly worse than usual.

  
Which is how he ends up on a mission with her, four days too late for her taste but still much earlier than recommended. It's an easy little mission, clear out wolf den in the Rift, and Ava stays back and uses her bow. It's easy and quick, but somehow Ava convinces him they should stay in Riften for the night instead of going back home immediately.

  
It's in Riften that Farkas first suspects there's something big she's not telling them.

  
It's the way people seem to brighten when she walks in, as if she is walking sunshine in this dreary laketown. Riften is not known to be a welcoming city, but everyone she chats with has something kind to say.

 

In Whiterun it's easy to understand why everyone smiles at her, being both a Thane (for reasons she and the Jarl himself are unforthcoming about) and a Companion. Of course they love her back home. But in Riften? She's barely spoke of the city itself outside the Temple. 

  
A dark elf woman introduced as Marise is chalk full of compliments as they eat their dinner, while Ava bashfully denied doing "all that much." She looks embarrassed as she assures her brother, "I only fetched some ice wraith teeth for her."

  
Her friend rolls her eyes, but doesn't try to press the issue. "Are you going to check in at the temple then, priestess-in-training? Or are you here for work?"

  
"Not a priestess, but technically both," Ava's hand moves to her injury, "Farkas and I here had to clear out a den near by, and I figured since we were in the area I could see if they wanted anymore help."

  
Farkas wonders why she flinches at the mention of being a priestess when every other time she's mentioned the temple she's gotten excited about helping. He supposes it could be one of "those things", things that she won't talk about but the brothers know are intrinsically tied to her old life and family.

  
Ava doesn't notice her brothers lack of attention, instead continuing to chat with her friend about recent rumours that have been going around. Apparently "that loudmouthed skeever Brynjolf" has been dialing it back with ripping off the citizens, which the market square is infinity thankful for. 

(And if Ava's mouth twists up into a smug grin, well, Marise isn't going to mention it to the guards)

  
Ava seems oddly pleased when Marise offers to foot the bill for dinner, but she insists on paying for herself and Farkas anyway, which leads to the dunmer questioning their "relationship".

  
Ava sputters and turns a remarkable shade of red given her dark skin tone. "I-- we're--- it's not like that!"

  
"We're siblings." Farkas interrupts. "My brother and I are twins, and Ava's the baby."

  
"Not a baby," She grumbles under her breath, even as she leans into her brother's side, practically radiating contentment. Casual reminders that they're siblings now seem to make her very happy. 

  
Marise looks between the two of them curiously. "I can see the resemblances. When Ava and I first met she couldn't even give me a name she was so shy, and you're both... kind hearted." She finally decides.

  
"Kind hearted?" Ava asks, clearly picking up on the hesitation in her voice.

  
"I almost said gentle, but I hardly think that's the case," Marise laughs and makes a vague motion to their weapons. "Miss ice-wraiths-aren't-that-tough."

  
Ava's blush is much less pronounced this time, probably not dark enough for Marise to take notice. But certainly dark enough for Farkas to, and smirk like he just won the house betting pool. "Has she told you how she got herself injured then? If you think ice wraiths are impressive..."

  
Ava's eyes go wide. 'Stop it!!!'

  
Marise looks intrigued. "I did notice the injury, but I assumed it would be rude to ask. You warrior types are so sensitive about that sort of thing."

  
She makes a valid point, Farkas has to admit. He's seen fights start over less than "where'd you get that cut?"

  
The werewolf leans back, making a show of getting comfortable as he says, "Ava here killed a dragon."

  
Marise's jaw drops open in shock. "A... did you just say a dragon?"

  
Ava buries her face in her hands, heart pounding with effort to keep her oxygenated when most of her blood seems to be coloring her face. "Farkasssssssssss," She whines.

  
"Avaaaaaaa," He responds, not glancing away from the dumbstruck dunmer.

She seems to be having a bit of difficulty connecting "Ava", a tiny woman with messy hair and a bleeding heart, with "dragon slayer"

  
Understandable, truthfully.

  
"Azura help me," She finally says, her voice trembling. "Are you...? I've heard rumours of a Dragonborn but I never thought..."

  
Ava's face takes on that of pure, unadulterated panic, and Farkas quickly steps in, "Not everyone who kills a dragon is the Dragonborn. If that were the case half the Whiterun guards would be headed to the mountain."

  
Marise barks a laugh at that, "Well, that would certainly be something, wouldn't it?"

  
"Can't imagine the Greybeards would enjoy it." He shrugs. Ava is still looking rather pale, so he continues the conversation on his own, asking about anything that'll keep her distracted.

  
Somehow he also ends up distracted, answering her curious questions about the Companions (yes, we do accept non-Nords, although we've only got one dark elf, no, we don't actually raise hounds in the middle of Whiterun. Arguably).

  
When he glances back at Ava she's disappeared, but it only takes one sniff and a wide glance over the marketplace to find her again. She's talking with a redheaded Nord, her lips pulled back in disgust as she inspects a bottle of... something.

  
"You're a trash man who makes a mockery of alchemy." She deadpans.

  
The redhead doesn't seem at all offended as he laughs, "They still buy it."

  
"The worst." She doesn't specify what's the worst, but Farkas assumes from his proud grin that she means him. It's an odd thing to witness, her seeming antagonistic friendship with this man.

  
"That's Brynjolf." Marise's voice interrupts his thoughts, the disdain evident. "He tried to... what's the phrase she uses? Hook up with her? She punched him in the face, of course, and now they've established a sort of camaraderie."

  
Farkas' protective instincts flare up at the mention of "hooking up", but he squashes them.

  
"Brynjolf might be a Thieves Guild rat but he does know how to take a refusal." Marise says.

  
"Thieves Guild?"

  
"There's not much we can do about it. Mavin owns the city and they've got her wrapped around their fingers." She shrugs, the interdemensionial gesture for 'what can you do?' "Least that means Ava has a little bit more protection. She makes friends as easily as she makes enemies. 'parently there were Thalmor looking for her a while ago."

  
Farkas balks. "Thalmor?"

  
"Yeah, they were scouring the Ratways for some old doomsayer. Mavin was all out of sorts, trying to decide if she'll protect her empire contacts or her Thieves."

  
"You seem to know quite a bit." He replies slowly, glancing over at the produce seller curiously.

  
Her lips quirk. "It's not as bad here in Riften, but it's always good to know your enemies. And gossip is good leverage. Mavin employing mostly Dark Elves isn't a coincidence."

  
Farkas winces at the reminder that as a Nord his view is very much from a place of privilege, at least here in Skyrim. Regardless of who wins the war, his citizenship will never be called into question, and the Companions are respected.

  
Marise shrugs again, "You should watch her better, brother." The endearment isn't so much of an actual endearment as it is a reminder of his status, and Farkas tiredly notes her affection for Ava seems to go beyond "thankfulness that she did said favor for me".

  
Brynjolf is folded in on himself with laughter the next time Farkas glances over, while Ava has taken residence in his stand and is going on about how great his miracle cures are. "I survived a dragon attack because of Bryn!" She declares, good arm raised dramatically.

  
She looks... happy. Her face holds no remnants of the usual fear and anxiety, instead giving way to a wide smile. Her eyes, dark dark brown are warm and glittering, drawing people in like a month to flame. Her hair is a mess, half fallen out of the braid she so nicely asked Farkas to do for her, but the messiness is charming in this case, making her seem more lifelike as she yells about dragon slaying.

  
(The best part is that some of the stragglers actually look interested now, but more so about the dragons than Brynjolf's cures)

  
Brynjolf takes back over immediately when they begin to show interest, and Farkas makes his way to his sister while he strikes a few deals. Ava wraps an arm around Farkas absently, still watching Bryn with a grim sort of acceptance.

  
"Having fun?"

  
"I was mocking him and somehow he got more customers." She says, hovering in a strange place between anger and amusement.

  
As if he knows they're talking about him, the thief glances over at them out of the corner of his eye. "Who's this, lass?"

  
"My brother, Farkas." She sends Farkas a smile.

  
Brynjolf lacks a bit of the grace Marise has while establishing their siblinghood, saying simply, "You're no Nord."

  
She lifts her injured hand for the express purpose of doing jazz hands as she says, "Adoption."

  
He snorts. "You're a little old dontcha think?"

  
"If I'm old what're you? Prehistoric? Mesozoic?"

  
Farkas doesn't know what either of those last two words mean, but given Brynjolf's expression, he doesn't either. It's clearly an insult though, granting her a razor sharp, "Respect your elders."

  
She makes a humming noise in return, her lips twisted into a smirk. "Of course. So sorry, sir." She says, her voice so serious it couldn't be anything but satire.

  
Brynjolf doesn't even try to fire an insult back, instead simply laughing. His face scrunches up when he laughs, eyes slipping closed and one hand lifting to muffle the noise. (Farkas wonders if that's because he's a thief, and they want to make the least noise possible. Farkas also wonders why he finds this particular thief's laugh to be so cute).

  
Ava tilts her head to the side, bumping his shoulder. "I'm gonna head to sleep. You wanna check out the bar, or stay with me?"

  
He definitely wants to check out the bar, but leaving Ava by herself--

  
"I can go with ya." Brynjolf offers, glancing over at Ava. "You're staying in Honeyside, right? I can get your brother here back home after a few drinks."

  
Ava grins before giving her brother one last hug, and just like that, Farkas ends up drinking with a well known thief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the real question in this chapter is whether or not Farkas actually does end up at Honeyside


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We spend more time with the Guild (and the Companions are absent, for the first time)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooooooooooo 
> 
> This is a short chapter but I'm already halfway thru the next one so there's gonna be another update soon 
> 
> (Warning for more of Ava's backstory and general homophobia)

Riften has a unique sort of atmosphere. Its... both homey and anxiety inducing. It reminds Ava of the general Halloween vibe back home. Like grabbing a handful of candy when you half expect something to jump out at you or curling on the couch and watching horror movies.

  
It's a strange energy, but not unwelcome.

  
It's a little less friendly without either of her brothers present, but Farkas wasn't amicable to coming back with her quite so soon, and Vilkas doesn't like any where vaguely humid.

  
Plus, at least this way she doesn't have Bryn hassling her to help out with extra jobs while Mercer does whatever he does. As if she's going to drag her older brother with her to the Ratways or something.

  
Not likely.

  
Ava perches on the bar of the Ragged Flaggon, hot apple cider warming her hands as she watches Brynjolf try to explain his way out of the fact he slept with a Companion. It's not against the rules, technically, and Mercer is much too busy trying to locate who ever purchased Goldenglow out from under them and then helped Honningbrew to care who Bryn is banging, but that doesn't stop Delvin from sinking his claws into it.

  
"Her brother?" He continues, mock horrified. "You slept with our youngest's brother? Brynjolf, I thought we raised you better than this."

  
"We didn't-- we just had a few drinks, and I walked him back to Honeyside." Bryn protests. Brynjolf makes a compelling argument, but he's a fantastic liar and they all know. And Farkas was too hung over to give any definitive answers to Ava the next morning.

  
"A few drinks my ass, you got a champion drinker totally plastered. I had to drag him home." Ava interrupts. "He growled at me whenever I tried to talk."

  
"That's a Nord thing," Sapphire says.

  
Ava is pretty sure it's a werewolf thing, but she nods anyway.

  
Bryn hides his face in his hands, groaning as Delvin starts talking about how it's bad luck to date Good Upstanding Companions. (Which makes Vekel feel compelled to assure Ava she's not a good upstanding companion, as if it were an insult to be marked as a good citizen)

  
Ava decides to grant him mercy just this once, cutting in with a curious, "Delvin, if anyone should be scolding Bryn for banging my brother, shouldn't it be me?"

  
The Breton nods sagely. "'course. Bryn..."

  
Brynjolf sighs. "Listen, lass, I'm sorry for walking your poor inebriated brother home. Next time I'll leave him in the Bee and Barb to find his own way home and fall into the canal."

  
"Apology accepted although I still very much doubt it was a few drinks." She rolls her eyes.

  
"And why's that?" The red head looks intrigued beneath his usual no nonsense bullshit.

  
So he is Actually interested in Farkas.

  
Hmm.

  
Ava debates making up some kind of obscure reason for being surprised he was sloshed, but Bryn would see through it in a second. 

Which leads her to question her loyalties. 

It's not  _that_ big of a secret. All of the current Companions know that the main Circle are werewolves, and her learning the secret too soon was proof that it's not a real issue (as long as they're trusted). 

Ava wonders if she really trusts Bryn. On a superficial level, of course, but... enough to trust him with this? She narrows her eyes and purposefully concentrates on what the dragons think. Brynjolf, yes. Mercer, Mavin, anyone who has actual affection for them, no. 

  
She curls her finger towards herself and leans forward, waiting til Bryn is close enough to grab by the straps of his shirt to yank him closer and whisper, "You got a werewolf smashed."

  
Brynjolf takes a step back after he's released, most likely on instinct, but other than that he makes no movements for a moment. Shock flickers across his face before he can control it. "He's... are you?"

  
She snorts. "It's not hereditary. Although I think our type is."

  
Sapphire decides this is the moment to muscle back into the conversation. "Don't know what that other little secret is about, but I am curious about types."

  
"A type is like your romantic MO. Apparently both Farkas and I appreciate red heads." She says, images of Aela sparring with her fellow shield siblings in her mind. Aela's armor does wonders in making Ava aware of how very, very gay she is. Probably doesn't do much in the way of protection though.

  
"And you still turned me down," Bryn comments amusedly, rubbing his long since healed cheek.

  
"My type also includes all women, which you are not." She laughs.

  
Sapphire purses her lips, leaning against the bar Ava sits on. "My type is women who can get things done."

  
Brynjolf nods sagely. "Good place for you to be then."

  
"What do you like Bryn? Clearly my brother is on the table."

  
"If he were on the table I'd be--"

  
"It's metaphorical, you goddamn heathen." Ava interrupts with a snarl.

  
Both Bryn and Sapphire break into peels of laughter. "Watch your mouth, Ava!" Sapphire gasps.

  
"My language is constantly under scrutiny; I don't need this." She responds, taking a sip of her drink. "Now fess up, ponyboy. Who ya wanna smooch?" The Companions might be her family, but the Guild is the one place she feels comfortable using her home slang and languages (they're even trying to learn ASL, much to her utter delight).

  
Sapphire is still trying to calm herself when Brynjolf admits, "Most of those warrior types."

  
"Ohhhh," Ava exclaims, bringing a hand up to her mouth as if scandalized. "You must be real happy to be in Skyrim."

  
"I'm not religious, but I am blessed to be livin here." He admits.

  
Ava nods along with that. "Of course." She says in total agreement. "I can relate."

  
Sapphire hums agreeably, moving to swipe Ava's cup. The dragonborn doesn't put up any kind of a fight, but she does scrunch her face up in annoyance. An expression that Sapphire mimics when she takes a sip of the non alcoholic drink. "What is this? Apple cider?"

  
"The lass doesn't drink." Bryn says, matter of fact.

  
"Yes." Ava steals it back, straightening her shoulders up defiantly. "I do not."

  
"Why not?"

  
"I..." That's... actually a very good question, one that no one had bothered to ask before. Most people simply accept it or try and get her to "just try it". She presses her lips together.

Sapphire trusts her. Sapphire had spilled the worst parts of her past to Ava. "I have an addictive personality and when I've drank before I usually end up saying stuff I regret, plus it tastes gross."

  
"Stuff you regret? Like what? Confessing to strangers?" Sapphire snickers.

  
"More like talking about my abuse." She admits, her stomach tying itself in knots. "Where I come from isn't... accepting like Skyrim. Me talking about pretty girls could get me in trouble. A lot of trouble." And it did, but Ava isn't about to talk about that, or her parents saying she deserved it, or the therapy, or...

  
"Alright, lass, I think that's enough." Brynjolf's using his order voice, but Ava doesn't know if it's at her or Sapphire as he yanks her off the bar and into a hug. She's not crying, but it certainly feels like she will if someone so much as looks at her the wrong way. Sapphire squeezes her way into the hug, one arm between Ava and Bryn while the other rests on her lower back (and Ava wonders if this is hard for her, because she's about the opposite of your average overly affectionate Nord).

  
"You made the Dragonborn cry." Brynjolf accuses.

  
"M not crying." She protests. "And shut up about the Dragonborn." She couldn't help the Guild finding out about it, given that Etienne is a gossip (and a complimentary one at that) and that Esbern sauntered through the cistern like it was no big deal, yelling about the prophecy all the while.

  
"How about Lizard Lady." Sapphire says.

  
A pale hand sets itself on Brynjolf's shoulder as anther person joins the little huddle they have going, and Sapphire squawks in ignition. "Get your hand out of my pocket!"

  
"Aw, come on. I thought we were cuddling." Vex mocks. "Sides if I wanted your gold, if you wouldn't've noticed a thing."

  
"Then get your hand off my ass." Sapphire corrects sharply.  
Vex's laughter is razor sharp, but Sapphire's sigh of relief assures Ava that she listened.

  
"So why are we all cuddled up?" Vex asks.

  
"We wanted to prevent any Lizard Lady tears." Sapphire says. Ava groans, pressing her face into Bryn's shoulder. The armor bites in uncomfortably, and if she stays long enough she's positive there'll be an outline, but for now it's okay.

  
"What'd you say to make her cry? I haven't even managed that one." She says it like that's an accomplishment, despite everyone knowing Vex isn't really mean to anyone. Unless you get on her bad side.

  
"Nothin." Brynjolf rumbles, setting his head against hers. "What are you and Del fightin about again?"

  
"Nothing." Vex snips, only to follow with, "Oh. Got it."  
"Bryn did basically admit he wants to take Ava's brother to the chapel though." Sapphire says.

  
Both Brynjolf and Ava are instantly scolding her, the group hug breaking apart so Ava can gesture wildly. Sapphire pays more attention to Ava than she does Bryn, much to the older thief's displeasure.

  
Somewhere along the line she switches topics, and Sapphire listens to her hiss about the Skyrim marriage practices themselves, seemingly torn between loving it for its simplicity and hating it for the same.

  
She explains fancy dresses and veils to ward off evil spirits and Sapphire tries to picture her in something like that. It would be quite the challenge to get white or pastel fabric for such a dress, let alone if it became a fad.

 

Ava looks best in armor anyway


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally get more time with Aela,,, after twelve years of waiting

  
Months of being with the Companions and the Guild and everyone else who wants the help of a wandering sellsword (sell bow?) makes one... unaccustomed to being alone. The time spent in Blackreach was bad enough, but there were distractions, things to keep her occupied.

  
The silence and the smell of blood follow her long after escaping Blackreach, only pushed out when she nudges open the door to Jorrvaskr. She should, realistically, be making her way up to High Hrothgar, but coming home sounded much better.

  
She puts water on the boil before making her way downstairs, steps as quiet as she can manage. Farkas is sprawled across his bed, apparently making up for the lack of a sibling by taking up all the room, while Vilkas is tossing and turning fitfully.

  
Ava leaves her things in Farkas' room, even though the Elder Scroll seems to be adverse to the idea of being set down. When they say "Elder Scrolls have a sentience" they're not joking. Ava gets the sense it needs to be with her. At least until its fulfilled its purpose.

  
Her gross and bloody armor on the other hand, certainly does not need to be anywhere near her. She leaves it in a pile to be cleaned when she has more energy.

  
The water is hot enough to make tea by the time she gets back upstairs, and she fixes herself a cup (well, technically a jug, seeing as she doesn't want to spill it).

  
Stargazing.

  
Stargazing!

  
Ava ties the tea onto her belt and jumps, barely catching the edge of Jorrvaskr. She digs her fingers into the wood and begins the long process of climbing to the top, careful to be quieter than usual. She isn't quite sure what time it is, but it's certainly late.

  
She tilts her head back, watching the northern lights shift and tracing the now patterns in the sky. They're different in Skyrim, the constellations. It took her weeks to actually find the new (old?) ones, corresponding with the Tamriel astrological signs.

  
Kodlack managed to find her a book on the subject, back when she first joined the Companions. He certainly wasn't using it, but someone must've. The pages are well worn, favoring that of the Shadow and the Lady. Ava can't decide if that means those were the previous owners favorites or the ones they found to be the most difficult in locating.

  
There's no North Star in Tamriel.

  
Ava still finds herself trying find it.

  
She had friends before, even during the worst years her parents weren't quite clever enough to get all forms of communication away from her. But the friends she has now, Torvar, Aela, Marise, Brynjolf, the twins...

  
They're all so wonderful. She still holds her old friends in high regard of course, and she doubts she would've made it here if not for them (more in a temporal sense than physical, mind you. She's still not sure how Akatosh managed to drag her over here), but... being able to talk to them and hug them is new and amazing. Being able to come home to a weird boat house full of an equally weird shield family.

  
Being able to be herself is good too. So, so good.

  
Ava stretches one leg out, trying to will the soreness from running so much away. It's annoying, being human and fighting dragons and saving the world. She should have an assistant or something.

  
The dragons rumble in agreement and she quickly tells them to shove it. _No enslaving the mortals, you goddamn beasts._

  
Ava briefly thinks she'd be flicking her tail if she had one, snapping against the roof in annoyance. It's weird how certain instincts seem to mimic the dragon souls residing in her. She wonders if the werewolves feel similarly.

  
(The dragons just laugh at her, the more affectionate of them seemingly endeared by her childishness. Of course, Kodlack also seems childish as well to them.)

  
Ava starts at the sound of the Underforge grinding open, glancing down the roof to see Aela stretching her arms out above her head. She's out of her usual armor, wearing a plain cotton shirt and...

  
 _Oh, fuck._ Ava quickly glances over to Skjor instead of her panty clad crush. 

  
Skjor is already looking back. He chuckles at her blushing face, calling, "Get down here whelp."

  
Aela looks up expectantly, smiling when she spots Ava. "Not asleep yet?"

  
Ava shrugs, taking one of the last sips of her tea before making her way down. Aela offers to help with the last jump and despite the dragons bristling about not needing assistance, she allows it. Aela grabs her hips when she swings down, pulling her off the lip of the roof and into a hug.

  
A hug she doesn't release her from. Aela sets her chin on Ava's shoulder, humming quietly. "If only I could take you hunting." Those words combined with Aela pressing herself against her makes Ava shiver.

  
Skjor laughs again, his smile easier so recently after a hunt. "Cold?"

  
Ava is aware he's teasing, but she responds honestly anyway, "We're not all Nords."

  
"I'm aware. What are you doing out here?" He responds.

  
She points up at the sky by way of explanation. "I just got home. I'm so tired I've actually transcended and become not tired."

  
Aela snickers, fingers digging into Ava's abdomen. It doesn't hurt, but it makes her squirm and bark a laugh. "I'm ticklish, Aela, don't."

  
"Leave her alone, Aela. The twins will have your head if you annoy their little sister." Skjor scolds with no actual anger in his voice. Or a proper order, if they're honest.

  
Ava wants to agree with the sentiment to let her go but she also very much does not want Aela to let her go. "You're both terrible," She giggles.

  
"I'm shocked you didn't go for a dog joke there." Aela responds with a smirk. "Terrible is a step above being called a bad dog."

  
"I was awfully tempted but I rose above." Ava laughs. "Did you two have a good run then?"

  
"Of course. It's nice coming home to a welcome face instead of sneaking though." Aela says.

  
Skjor rolls his eyes good-naturedly, "Where have you been, whelp?"

  
"Blackreach." She says. "Had to go through a dwemer ruin to get there."

  
"For?" Skjor motions for them to head inside.

  
Aela tries to keep her arms around Ava as they move for two steps, leading to the both of them stumbling and laughing. Ava catches herself on Skjor's arm, which he takes as an invitation to grab her hand.

  
She takes Aela's hand with her other, and the three of them stumble into Jorrvaskr.

  
They settle into chairs all grouped up together, the two werewolves immediately digging into the leftover food. Ava is less ferocious, but does fill a bowl with the last of whatever stew Athis cooked up last night. It's something dunmer in nature, tasting like potatoes and spicy alcohol.

  
Its good though, if not a little cold. Ava whispers a Shout to warm it, and if either of her companions hear it, they don't make any mention of it. She stirs it idly, smiling.

  
"Why do you like the sky so much?" Skjor asks, not bothering to look up from his plate of basically all the meat available.

  
"I like being up high." She shrugs. "I like being above everyone."

  
"In bed too?" Aela teases.

  
Ava responds with a rather undignified snort, her eyes going wide. "Wouldn't know, actually, but I don't think that's the cause." She says quickly, looking up at the scaffolding instead of either now very curious wolves.

  
"You wouldn't know..." Aela starts, her eyes wide at the implication.

  
"What's the cause?"

  
Out of those two options, Ava doesn't even consider answering the first. "I'm dovahkiin." She blurts out. "So I guess it's similar to you and hunting and that dumb scent marking thing. It's instinctive."

  
She expects panic to follow that statement, one of the first declarations of being dragonborm she's made in her life. Other times she'd just nod, accept it when other people said that's what she is.

  
She does get panic. She also gets... relief. "I'm dovahkiin." She repeats, louder. "Akatosh help me, Vilkas and Farkas are gonna be so mad I told you first."

  
Aela glances over at her curiously. That word again. She still doesn't know where she's heard it before, but Skjor's wide eyes tell her he does.

  
"Dragonborn." Skjor says simply, twisting around to look his shield sister in the eyes. "You're..."

  
"Dragon blooded. Yes." She confirms.

  
"Hircine help you." He breathes. Skjor is not one to openly mention his devotion to the Daedric Lord but in this case it seems appropriate. "You killed the dragon? You've killed multiple dragons?"

  
She nods. "And then I devour their souls and absorb them into my being."

  
Aela's shocked silence is broken by a peel of laughter. "Must you word it like that?"

  
"Yeah. I mean. There are worse ways to say it." She says slowly. She could've made a vore joke.

  
Which means she could've had to explain vore to Aela and Skjor.

  
...She would rather go through Blackreach in search of thirty red nirnroots again than ever, ever explain that.

  
Skjor blinks, looking very much like he knows why her language was so halting. His lips tilt into a smirk. "Care to explain that one, whelp?"

  
Ava groans and wonders if she can break her no drinking rule. Surely Vilkas would be twice as upset if she tells them her "big secret" first and then chases it with alcohol. "No." She says, "You cannot pay me enough to explain that one, my dude."

  
"My dude." He repeats with amusement.

  
Ava only responds by leaning on him, at first just to be annoying but then because she's comfortable and sleepy.

  
"So your injury, that really wasn't a one time thing." Aela prompts.

  
"Oh, no." Her imaginary tails whips the floor as she remembers the many, many dragons she's killed. "Dov ah kiin."

  
Aela lifts a brow, clearly waiting for a translation.

  
"Dovahkiin has three ways to be interpreted. Dov ah kiin, three words, the Born Hunter of Dragonkind. Dovah kiin, two words, Dragonchild. As one word it can be both or neither." She explains, shifting against Skjor. "Laat is last."

  
"Ah means hunter?"

  
"Fitting." Skjor says, glancing between the women. "Aela and Ava."

  
"Oh. We are both A names, aren't we?" Ava hums tiredly.   
Skjor slings an arm around her, pulling her closer to his side. She doesn't bother to tilt her head back far enough to note if he's done with dinner or eating with one hand, but she wants to think it's the latter because that mental image is hilarious. 

"Tired, little dragon?" Aela asks, her voice laced with amusement.

  
"I'm preemptively breaking up with you if you start calling me that." Ava threatens.

  
Aela's loud laughter makes her jump a bit, while Skjor snorts in disbelief. "Breaking up? Is that your phrase for starting a fight?"

  
"Uh no." Now its Ava's turn to laugh. "I'll explain when I'm not half asleep. Maybe."

  
"Mmm." Aela somewhat agrees, pushing her plate away. "The twins are going to be very annoyed in the morning."

  
"I don't plan on waking up in the morning so that's fine." She responds. "Gonna sleep until three o'clock and then I'm gonna laze around until the Greybeards come down here to kick my ass."

  
"Sounds like a reasonable plan." Aela gets up and holds her arms out in offering.

  
Ava accepts with a laugh, "I love Tamriel."

  
"You can just call me Aela."

Ava's laugh is loud enough to garner a growl from Vilkas as they go down the stairs, and she rolls her eyes. "Put me down. I'll go announce myself," She requests.

  
Aela rolls her eyes and sets her down with a flourish. "If Vilkas kicks you out you're welcome to join Skjor or me in sleeping off the hunt."

  
Ava waves over her shoulder in acknowledgement, her footsteps perfectly silent as she enters Vilkas' room. "Honey, I'm home."

  
The answering growl is half hearted at best as he lifts one arm for her to get under. She all but melts into it, folding her arms against her chest and pressing as close as possible to her adoptive brother. His own movements are heavy and lazy, letting his arm fall on top of her without a care.

  
"Are you even asleep?" She asks curiously. Vilkas gets the nightmares the worst out of the bunch, while Farkas gets the instincts. Kodlack keeps quiet about his issues with abstaining from the blood, but Ava thinks he gets a bit of both.

  
"Shush." He answers in a voice much too aware for him to have been sleeping.

  
"You wanna see what I got?"

  
"Later, Ava." He shifts, tucking her face under his chin. "Go to sleep."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote like three different variations of this chapter lmao


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're starting a new arch with the Big Dragonborn Reveal and we're kicking it off with a scene from the very beginning!! 
> 
> This chapter was a lot of fun to write bc i got to emphasize how much Ava has grown as a person and how much she's healed since going from an abusive environment to the Companions/Skyrim 
> 
> anyways,, happy early holidays? November is such a lame month theres nothing exciting going on. have a good on yall <3

Farkas is selected to go through the rite of honor with the whelp not because he’s a stellar speech giver but because the newest Companion is more nervous than a rabbit in broad daylight.   
  
She doesn’t talk much either, although she’s been here for three weeks and she’s pulled herself together a bit since then. When they first found her on the farm she was a right mess of dust and ash and tear stains. She still had dried blood on her neck for gods’ sake (not hers, but from the person who went to the block before her).  
  
Now she’s in clean armor at least, and doesn’t look at everything like it’ll rear up and bite her. Now she’s more prone to wide eyed amazement, as if she’s never seen any of things before. She traces the designs of the engravings on the ancient table with a reverence Farkas doubts few Nords even hold for their crypts.   
  
She moves slow and liquid, and while that’s probably the polar opposite of what Farkas is accustomed to, he follows. She’s quick but clearly a novice with her bow, and her dagger isn’t much better. She makes up for it by getting several surprise attacks. She’s clever if a little too cautious.   
  
“Be careful around the tombstones, I don’t wanna carry you back to Jorrvaskr on my back.” He reminds her, gentler than he’d usually use for a newbie.   
  
She glances over at him curiously, “Can you actually pick me up?”   
  
Her voice is loud and clear when she actually speaks. It reminds him of… something, but he can’t quite place it.   
  
He snorts and puts his sword on his back, “Come here.”   
  
She’s moving even as she questions it, “Why? Is there--”   
  
Farkas learns two things in quick succession. One, that Ava is even lighter than he expected, and two, that her laugh is _wonderful._ Higher pitched than he expected.   
  
“Brother!” She says it like a demand, slamming her palm against his armor. Probably hurts her more than it does him. “Farkas--” She narrows her eyes. “You don’t have a last name so I can’t do the whole full name thing.”   
  
“A last name?” He could set her down while they have conversation, but she seems awfully happy to be close.   
  
“Like a surname?”  
  
“Ah. That’s usually for clans or important people.” He shrugs (and she makes a terrible noise, her hands coming up to grasp at his shoulders. Like he’d drop her or something).  
  
“You are important.” She says matter of fact.   
  
He smiles, “Am I now? Personally or in general?”  
  
She pauses, tilting her head to the side in thought. “You... can put me down now.” She says abruptly. Her laugh changes when she’s nervous.   
  
He does so immediately, setting her down carefully. He almost wants to comfort her, but that might make her even more uncomfortable. She seems to pull away when people express honest affection or worry for her.   
  
She wraps her arms around her middle, looking anywhere but at her soon-to-be Sheild Brother. “And… I meant in general but y’all seem really adamant about the whole family thing so maybe personally important too.”   
  
“Let’s finish this quest then.”   
  
He only finds it a little disturbing that she seems more comfortable killing draugr than she does talking about her feelings.   
  
She doesn’t speak again until after they’ve picked up the fragment, and even then she needs to be coaxed out of a staring contest with the wall. She eyes it with an intensity that would wilt most plant life, one hand raised to traces the claw like markings.   
  
“Those are all over Skyrim. Don’t know what they’re for.” Farkas says, trying to draw her attention away from it.   
  
“They’re gravemarkers, usually. Sometimes they’re just dedications.” She says. She suddenly turns to him, a sly grin on her face that reminds him all too much of his brother when he wants to show off.   
  
“What?” He asks despite himself.   
  
“This one, right here--” She traces it with her fingertips, “Is _yol_ , which means fire. Followed by lot dovah, something dragon? I assume its some bullshit about how great she was, that’s usually how dragons address themselves and humans sorta… go along with that. And this word is three syllables so I think that that’s the dragon's name? Lodunost.”  
  
He blinks. “Which  means?”  
  
“I’m pretty sure this commemorates someone who was burned alive. Possibly a king? That’s what Jun means but I don’t know the other words. Sorry.” She frowns, obviously frustrated by not being able to give him a definitive answer.  
  
As if her translation of _dragon speech_ is somehow subpar.   
  
Even Vilkas would be impressed by this, regardless of how annoying he finds the whelp.   
  
Farkas puts a hand on her shoulder, and... hesitates. It makes it much harder to comfort someone when they don’t have a name. “Whelp,” He finally settles on, “Have you told Kodlak you’re a genius?”   
  
“A-- Me? Pffft,” She tries to start a reply and ends up laughing to hard to do much more than gasp. She folds in on herself when she laughs, her dagger skittering onto the floor when she clutches her stomach.   
  
_Adorable_.   
  
“I, uh. I actually really love learning new languages, so coming to Skyrim was like… ideal.” She says. “I like astrology too, and there’s like, no light pollution around here so.”   
  
Farkas has no idea what light pollution is, but if a lack of it makes her happy, he supposes that’s a good thing. “Was there a lot of pollution where you’re from?”   
  
Wrong question, he knows instantly.   
  
She withdraws back in on herself, physically shrinking away from him. “There- It-” She takes a deep breath and grabs her dagger off the floor. “It wasn’t good, Farkas.”   
  
  


* * *

  
Vilkas is long gone by the time Ava wakes up, but he was nice enough to leave her a change of clothes before leaving. She yanks it on and grabs her stuff before heading upstairs, finding that most people have moved into the yard (or have gone on a mission, presumably).    
  
Ava makes sure to have what they would call a “proper” breakfast before joining everyone outside.    
  
Thankfully it seems the entire Circle is outside, including Kodlak, and a rather tired looking Aela. She leans into the palm of her hand, watching Athis and Torvar without really  _ watching.  
  
_ She looks really pretty like that, all soft with sleep. Her hair’s still messy too, like she just finger combed it before breakfast rather than actually going through the effort of brushing it.    
  
Ava takes a deep breath, steadies herself.  _ Maybe later, gay thoughts. _   
  
Ava taps Kodlak’s shoulder, staring at her brothers apprehensively. “Guys.” She sits down across from the Harbinger and motions for her brothers to do the same.    
  
They do that  _ thing  _ that siblings do, tilting their heads at the same angle and asking, “What?”    
  
They also glare at one another at the same time, but where Vilkas snarls Farkas looks sort of amused.    
  
Ava is unabashedly amused, the image taking the edge of her panic. “You’re both such dorks, oh my god.”    
  
“And you’re still the whelp.” Vilkas replies. Farkas grabs the bench spot next to her, and Vilkas settles in next to Kodlak.  
  
“What’s up?” Farkas casually asking what's up is probably one of Ava’s favorite things.    
  
She wraps her arms around her middle, as if it’ll keep the anxiety from spilling out. As if it’ll make this conversation more bearable. “Um. I might’ve maybe possibly told Aela and Skjor something... Important.”    
  
Kodlak looks over at her sharply. “When?”   
  
“Last night, after they got back from a hunt. We ate together and… okay.” She doesn't appreciate the look Vilkas is giving her, even if he’s right in assuming she came clean because of Aela. “Don’t be rude.”   
  
“I didn’t say anything.” Vilkas replies with a smirk.    
  
She reaches over the table to wave her hand in front of his face and mocks, “I’m not touching you.”   
  
“How old are you? Seven?” He laughs despite himself.   
  
“I’m twenty two, thank you very fucking much.” She sniffs. “And I speak five languages, so… What have you been doing with your life, big bro?”    
  
They’re siblings now and they love each other without a doubt, but they still both love getting the other riled up. Only this time its affectionate ribbing.    
  
“You really aren’t familiar with humility, are you?” He says. Its not a question and they all know it.    
  
Her upper lip pulls back in annoyance and Farkas intervenes before she can fire off some insult. “You’re dancing around telling us whatever you told them.” He says, reaching over to pry one hand from her shirt (when did she begin clutching it in the first place?). She allows him to do so, although it takes her a moment.   
  
“I have hyperextensive joints; I can’t dance.” She answers immediately. “One time in gym I popped my arm out of socket while playing basketball. I popped it back in myself and they all freaked.” It hurt like a bitch too.   
  
Farkas laugh snorts, rolling his eyes. “You’re metaphorically dancing.”   
  
“Ohhh,” She nods in mock understanding. She can't come up with a grand way to say it (and she knows without a doubt there's no  _ right _ way to do it), so she just throws it out there. “I’m the Dragonborn.”    
  
While Farkas and Vilkas both still, Aela hunches forward, bringing a hand up to her mouth to muffle her laughter. Ava’s nerves keep her from truly admiring the sight, but it does draw her eyes away from her brothers for a moment.    
  
“You’re--” Ava’s eyes return to Vilkas. “Dragonborn.”    
  
Ava nods, tightening her hold on Farkas’ hand. It’s surely painful at this point, but he doesn’t protest. Big tough Nord and all. “I should’ve… I don’t like people knowing.” The only people she voluntarily told were need to know (and that one child in Solitude who really seemed lie she needed a pick me up. On her, starry eyed amazement wasn’t so bad).   
  
Farkas squeezes her hand in return. “Ava.”    
  
“Yeah, sorry.” She bumps her head against Farkas’ shoulder in acknowledgment.     
  
“Don’t apologize.” Vilkas replies absently. Reminding her not to apologize is a reflex at this point. He still appears to be thinking through the Dragonborn business. He’s got that  _ look _ , the one that Ava affectionately thinks of as his Nerd Ass Thinkin Face.    
  
“So…” Farkas begins. “How long has Kodlak known?”   
  
“Since the beginning. I uh… I was fresh off the carriage, if you will, when I came to Whiterun, and then I did missions for the Jarl and I stayed with the Greybeards for like. Two weeks? How long was it between you and Aela and Ria on the farm and my joining?” She frowns, looking at Farkas for an answer.    
  
He shurgs, “A week?”    
  
She hums in agreement. “Yeah so. Kodlak was the first one I told, I think? Balgruuf knows too but I didn’t actually tell him so much as repeat what the guards said and get his Jarl-y stamp of approval on the idea that I’m Dragonborn.” She used to run away or completely shut the conversation down when she became uncomfortable but now she rambles.    
  
Vilkas takes a deep breath. “You know what this means, right?”   
  
Ava makes a face. “What does it mean?”    
  
He slams his hands on the table (and Aela jumps along with everyone else listening). “We have to go dragon hunting.”    
  
“Oh.”    
  
“Oh?”    
  
“Oh, we can so totally do that, my man,” She lights up, straightening her posture and grinning wickedly. It might (probably) be the recent revelation but Vilkas thinks there’s something very  _ dragon _ about that expression. “There’s a word wall near Windhelm that I’ve been meaning to read. Or Alduin. But I don’t think I can take you with me to fight Alduin. Especially not given that you’ve never taken on a dragon.”    
  
It seems just mentioning Alduin in enough to anger her, make her scent become overwhelmingly ashen. Not like something is burning, but the aftertaste. It’s a strange effect, but hardly something a normal human would notice. The Circle? They certainly do.   
  
Aela finally gives up acting like she’s not eavesdropping and slides into the free seat at Ava’s side. She leans into her after a moment, greeting, “Sorry I didn’t take you up on the napping offer.”    
  
“The  _ what? _ ” Kodlak asks. Because allowing Ava to handle telling her brothers one of the most important facts about herself without any input aside from a strong paternal glance or two is fine, but he simply _ must _ intervene when she mentions Aela’s strange attempts at befriending her.    
  
(most people would call it attempted courting, but Ava is a little oblivious to dating and skyrim customs)    
  
Vilkas and Farkas have simultaneous moments of second hand embarrassment from having to watch Aela be so obvious and that good ole feeling of general grossness that accompanies watching your younger sibling get hit on.    
  
They exchange commiserating looks.    
  
Aela waves a dismissive hand at their Harbinger, her smile knife sharp, “Nothing to worry about. Ava simply mentioned that the twins were already sleeping last night and I offered my bed instead. So they could catch up on sleep, of course.”    
  
“Of course.” Vilkas mimics derisively. “Thank you, Aela.”    
  
If anything, she gets even more smug, “Anytime, Vilkas.”    
  
Ava leans closer to Farkas, knowing full well that everyone can hear her as she whispers, “Is this a werewolf thing or what?”    
  
Farkas snorts. “It’s definitely a werewolf thing. Just like how your potion making is a dragon thing.”   
  
She nods mock wisely. “That’s actually because I can’t do any magic but yeah, true.”    
  
“Isn’t Shouting magic?” Vilkas interrupts curiously.    
  
She looks absolutely appalled by the suggestion alone. “Telling my enemies to fuck off is not  __ magic  just because its in a different language.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> talking things out like emotionally well adjusted adults?? in my fic?? its more likely than you'd think 
> 
> also more lesbians hell yeah hell yeah hell yeah

Healing is not always linear, nor is it always big things like promising to be more truthful from now on, or learning to trust again. It’s not always fun either, but it _can_ be.   
  
Ava wears a pride bracelet now. Both the traditional rainbow and the lesbian pride (or as close as she can make it with Skyrim’s materials). They’re simple knot bracelets, the pattern scrounged up from her crafty phase.   
  
Vilkas gets one too and he wears the pink purple blue stripes like war paint. Like its actually something to be _proud of_. Farkas’ are pink and yellow and blue (not because they really understand the difference but because he didn’t want to match-match with his brother).   
  
Athis’ is blue, pink, and white, and sometimes he stares at like it’ll give him insight into why Ava is so fearful. He doesn’t have any particular connection to the bracelet itself, but if it makes his friend feel better about herself he supposes its fine.   
  
It’s a little thing, but nonetheless comforting. Sometimes healing is as simple as catching flashes of color while sparring, she learns.   
  
Sometimes its sitting down with the girl who’s had it out for ya for months and blurting out, “Why don’t you like me?” She twists the bracelet around, trying to draw strength from it.  
  
Njada barely glances up from her tea stirring. “Why do you care?”   
  
“I don’t… I don’t like not getting along with people. I know not everyone gets along and that some people find me to be… abrasive, but we live together! Couldn’t we try? Even just to make things more comfortable?” Ava doesn’t like tip toeing around people on her household. God knows she’s done enough of that in the past.   
  
She runs a hand through her hair, looking anywhere but directly at Njada.  
  
There’s a pause, and she hears the teacup clink against the table. “So you want me to explain myself because you’re a _people pleaser?_ ”  
  
Ava feels anger curl in her chest alongside the anxiety. “I just want to know _why._ ” She says, her voice harder than intended. Ava’s voice is not meant to be soft or quiet. When she wants to be either she simply does not speak.   
  
“Because you didn’t earn it. Everyone else here had to train for months, while Kodlak and Skjor let you show up whenever you please. And they want me to be _nice_ to you. As if I’m in the wrong here, wondering why they allowed someone like you in.”   
  
“Someone like me?” She doesn’t mean it like _that_ but Ava covers her bracelets anyway. Hides them.   
  
Njada’s eyes follow the movement, her anger giving way to confusion. “What do you think I mean?” The question is no softer than the rest of the things she’s said, but its not an insult either. “I don’t know! I mean, I know its not what I… When you say stuff like that its reminds me of my abusers.” The words are sharp in her mouth, enough that the copper overshadows the leftover taste of icing. “Like, “Someone like you” and stuff. I know its an unfair association and I’m sorry but--”  
  
“You were abused.” Njada interrupts. Her face has gone oddly blank, and her bored tea stirring has ceased.    
  
“My old family wasn’t… good. I mean, they were to my other siblings mostly, and basically all my shortcomings were apparently rooted in my being gay but you know!” She laughs, wiping at her eyes. No tears quite yet but they _sting_. Little needles behind her eyelids.   
  
Ironic that her recent confession to her brothers made her feel _better_ , while this makes her feel vulnerable, she thinks.   
  
“Gay?” Njada asks carefully.   
  
“Yeah, I got outed against my will when I was uh, fourteen? I’m a lesbian, which, Skyrim terms means I _prefer women_. Exclusively. And back home that’s… tough.” Ava wants to hunch in on herself, to wrap her arms around her abdomen. Instead she takes a shaky breath and straightens her shoulders. She will not _hide._   
  
Njada takes a deep breath as well. “You… They hurt you because of something like that, and…” She seems to be at a loss for words.   
  
The other’s reacted similarly (plus a lot more anger for some), but Ava’s never had to tell anyone they remind her of the abusers also. Its not an easy thing to admit.  
  
“Listen, I didn’t mean to make this about me, I’m sorry, I just… wanted to explain why I react the way I do, and ask how I could fix it? Whatever makes you not like me? Because obviously it’s not _that_ but…” Ava bites down on her lip, glancing towards the door. Looking for an escape.   
  
Njada feels… _something_. Not anger like she usually gets where the whelp is involved but something close to it. Shame? Regret? _Something_ that makes her feel overheated and disgusted with herself. That’s clearly not Ava’s intent either, but rather a byproduct of the information she just spit out on the table. The fact that it’s not an elaborate guilt trip on Ava’s part makes her feel even worse.   
  
If neither of the twins kick Njada’s ass then she’s going to do it herself.   
  
Njada takes another deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. She can’t. She doesn’t _want_ to picture what Ava’s saying.   
  
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”   
  
Ava startles, leaning back as if the words had physically pushed her. “I… I didn’t. You don’t need to apologize, I’m sorry if I--”  
  
“Ava.” Njada says. “There’s no reason for _you_ to apologize.”   
  
Njada had a friend once that lost his parents, and the ones that adopted him weren’t ideal (bad enough that the guards took care of it). He apologized for every little thing too, prioritized other people before himself and always asked what he was doing wrong, just like Ava is doing now. It’s… an uncomfortable realization for Njada.   
  
“Listen. You’re right, I didn’t know, but I still acted like a brat. Let me at least apologize for that.” She finally says.   
  
Ava folds, “Okay, um. Apology accepted. Still can I like. Make it better? So we can be friends and get along and maybe you can help me with shields because I’ve never blocked in my life.” Dragon instincts don’t help with that either. They’re about aggression, taking hits and shaking them off.   
  
“I think… that’s just something I have to work on. I didn't like how quickly Kodlak took to you and it made me jealous. It’s not your fault.” He took to her because she needs it, not because he meant to be playing favorites. And, Njada will admit, it is sort of childish that she was jealous in the first place. Kodlak is family but he’s not _all_ she has. Njada has more than just the Companions. Ava doesn’t, apparently.   
  
Ava shrugs. “The wandering is, but… I want to settle down eventually. I’m… busy, for now.”   
  
Njada hums, returning to her tea stirring now that things have somewhat settled. “If you’re not too busy, you wanna go somewhere with me?”   
  
She blinks owlishly. “Where?”   
  
“You’ll see. Be ready by  tomorrow morning. If you want to bring the twins, or Aela, or Skjor, I won’t mind.” Njada gives a miniscule smile, and Ava looks _struck._  
  
“Uh. Sure,” She says, that sunshiney grin appearing. Njada is unsure how she manages to make an expression that’s mostly teeth so charming. Njada is unsure how Ava does a lot of things. She runs her hand through her hair, making the dark dark roots more obvious. “Tomorrow, then.” She says, getting to her feet.   
  
Njada watches her leave, and wonders how she’ll react tomorrow. 

* * *

  
  
She brings Aela, despite her brother’s insistence that they come along as well. The redhead’s hand is rough in hers, from years of archery and her insistence that lotion is for softer folk (Farkas and Torvar have no such issues, although Ava is still better at making potions and poisons).    
  
Every so often Ava glances down at their hands and gets a jolt of “this is really a thing I’m doing”.    
  
There are many things that might be lost in translation between their radically different cultures but Ava is pretty sure that hand holding is exclusively romantic. One part of her is still worried, still anxious and scared, but that’s mostly overshadowed by the feeling of utmost excitement in her chest. Its  _ warm _ , being… in crush? In love?    
  
She leans into Aela for a moment, relishing in it (and thankfulness that Njada is leading their group and therefore can’t see her little display of affection).    
  
Aela hip bumps her in return, smile softer than usual. Although the warpaint prevents her from looking too soft. Ava’s own face is usually make up free since arriving in Skyrim but sometimes her siblings do warpaint for her, and lip balm is practically a necessity in Skyrim’s climate.    
  
That’s one of the few things about Skyrim Ava might change, because in her opinion cold is only okay when there’s snow.    
  
She briefly wonders if Aela would be adverse to making snow people with her. Childish, but still. Something to think about.    
  
The walk is quiet without Ava’s usual chatter. Aela is too busy taking stock of the landscape, while Njada just isn’t one for smalltalk.    
  
Ava doesn’t notice that they’ve found their destination until Aela stops moving, chuckling when Ava stumbles. “Where…” She asks, looking to Njada for an explanation.    
  
There’s a modest home in front of them, and several more a little ways back, surrounded by farmland. An agricultural little village then.    
  
Njada knocks once on the doorway before barging right in, calling, “Mother! Mama! I brought guests.”   
  
“What?” Ava asks.    
  
Aela simply nods, as if this checks out with her hypothesis.    
  
A woman appears at the top of the stairs, her eyebrows raised to her hairline and a book in her hand. She smiles when she sees her daughter, rushing down the stairs to wrap her in a hug. “What are you doing here?” She says, voice musical (Ava finds herself set at ease by the sound. It’s not  _ powerful _ , but that’s not a bad thing).    
  
“I felt like visiting.” Njada picks her mother up, spinning her and smiling when she breaks into a peal of laughter. Her book falls onto the floor with a rather loud thump, but neither of them seem to care.    
  
Ava twitches with the urge to pick it up and Aela squeezes her hand. She’s got an amused smirk on her face when Ava glances over.    
  
“Njada, not that I’m ungrateful you’ve decided to visit, but you could’ve sent a letter first.” Njada’s mother chides, setting her hands on her hips as she pulls away. “And bringing guests!” She motions towards them incredulously. “Where are my manners? I’m Valeria.”    
  
“Aela, of the Companions.” Aela responds fearlessly.    
  
Ava squeezes her hand so hard she’s sure it hurts as she says, “I’m Ava, also… of the Companions?    
  
_ Dovahkiin _ the dragons snarl.    
  
Aela’s nubby nails dig into her hand, drawing her attention back.    
  
“It’s a pleasure to meet some of Njada’s Shield siblings.” Valeria says, motioning for them to sit down at the table. “Njada, go find your mother. She’s outside.”    
  
_ Oh.  _   
  
Aela guides Ava to sit while she has a realization.    
  
“You’re-- You. Ma.” She begins, starting and stopping multiple sentences. “Oh.”    
  
Aela stifles her laughter.    
  
Valeria blinks and steeples her fingers. “I’m?”    
  
“It’s just… I’m very happy to meet you too.” She finally says, lifting the hand clasped with Aela’s to her cheek. “I…” She laughs. “So Njada has two moms? How long have you been together?”    
  
Valeria’s expression shifts from confusion to one of amusement. “Going on thirty five. We’re both Nords so we didn’t have much of a courting period.” She spins the ring on her finger, glancing between Aela and Ava and their hands.    
  
Ava only has the urge to pull away for a split second before she glances back at Aela, who’s smiling smug as can be at Valeria as she tightens her grip on Ava’s hand.    
  
_ Oh.  _   
  
Ava squeezes her hand in return, although she can’t quite meet Aela’s eyes and her face is burning red.    
  
The door swings open again, Njada and a woman with dirt caked fingers both heading for the kitchen (kitchenette? Ava is unsure what you’re supposed to call it when the kitchen in connected to the living room). Njada’s mother has got a basket full of various plants that she sets on the table, greeting, “It’s nice to see Njada does actually have friends.”    
  
Njada pauses in her search through the cupboard to warn, “Mother!”    
  
“Oh, please, you know I jest.” She says, dismissive and affectionate. Njada must’ve learned it from her. She moves to wash her hands while Njada begins preparing tea.    
  
Valeria smiles at the two of them. “Please, behave yourselves in front of our guests.”    
  
Aela snorts. “The Companions aren’t the most proper either.”    
  
Ava nods in agreement, keeping quiet as she watches their family dynamic with wide eyes. She’s never felt quite so  _ hopeful _ . She can feel it ache within her bones.    
  
“The name’s Lisaa, by the way.” The woman sits down across from them, pressing a kiss to her wife’s temple as she does so. “It’s nice to meet the infamous Aela. I don’t believe I’ve gotten letters about you though.”    
  
Ava can’t help the wide grin, “My name is Ava. I’m… new to Skyrim.”    
  
“How new?” Lisaa straightens up a bit. “I spent a few years wandering Tamriel was I was young.”    
  
“Um, it hasn’t even been a year. I was at Helgan.” She lifts her free hand to her neck automatically, hooking her fingers around the recently created necklace. The boys and their trophies. “Way to greet somebody.”    
  
Valeria raises an eyebrow, “So it it true what they say? Dragons?”    
  
Ava laughs, “Very. Me and my brothers--”    
  
“ _ Ava. _ ” Njada interrupts. “Please.”    
  
Her brothers might have gone a bit overboard recounting their family dragon slaying adventure. But that’s hardly Ava’s fault. She feels a positively wicked grin on her lips. “Njada must’ve mentioned my brothers, the twins, right? We recently hunted an Elder Dragon.”    
  
Lisaa makes a show of grabbing a wine opener and shushing her child. “Tell us.”    
  
Ava is more than happy to do so.    
  


* * *

  
  
Aela is more than happy to _leave,_ giving Njada time to properly catch up (and more than likely, get drunk) with her moms.   
  
They’re both giggly drinkers and while Ava seemed to bask in it, Aela can only deal with semi-strangers for so long.   
  
Ava does happily agree to walk back to Jorrvaskr with her rather than stay the night though, and she’s the one to instigate the hand holding this time around. She seems… brighter than usual.   
  
Her hair’s messy and littered with different style braids (no doubt thanks to the Torvar’s intoxicated touchyness), and she’s got some kind of make up on that makes her skin look iridescent in the dying sunlight. And if it were any other person Aela would call it sparkly bullshit but on her it looks like naturally occurring armor.   
  
“Aela?” She says, her mouth pulling into a smile. “Are we going or are you admiring the view?”   
  
Aela has never been one to beat around the bush. She strikes as quick as her arrows find their mark, or her wolf form lounges for prey. There is no hesitancy is hunting.   
  
But here?  
  
She’s spent hours going over whether or not she should pursue Ava. Whether she can be soft enough for her, the woman who’s been told time and time again that her affections are _wrong_. Aela wasn’t raised to be careful about other people’s feelings.   
  
Ava is _changing,_ learning, growing, with every minute she spends in Skyrim, and while Aela considers herself adaptive by nature, she couldn’t possibly keep up with her.   
  
But she _wants to._   
  
“Penny for your thoughts?” Ava asks, quieter now. “Or, septim I guess. Septum? I always get those confused but no one seems to notice. Guess its because my accent is weird anyway.”  
  
Aela snorts, her shoulders shaking with laughter. “Its Septim. S-e-p-t-i-m.” She’s suddenly thankful for all the boring lessons Kodlak put her through. Literacy is useful when Ava is around.   
  
“Thanks.” Her laugh is mostly just gasping and shaking. Little sound and a lot of movement. Definitely not what most expect from the destined to be world saving Dragonborn. But certainly something Aela wants to be hearing for the rest of… forever.   
  
“Ava.” Aela grabs her other hand, twisting so they face each other. “Nords don’t… court. We fancy someone, we marry them and that’s that. But you… you’re different. How do we do this?”   
  
“Oh.” Ava blinks. “Uh.” Her smile slips into open mouthed shock. “You wanna date me?”   
  
“I mostly want to kiss you, but yes dating sounds good.”   
  
Ava’s blush puts the sunset to shame. “Okay. To both. Tomorrow we can go on a date and right now you can kiss me.”   
  
There is no hesitation in pressing her lips to Ava’s, tilting her face down so Ava doesn’t have to stretch so much. She’s soft and aggressive, letting go of one hand to press it against Aela’s cheek.   
  
As far as first kisses go, Aela thinks this is, as Ava would so aptly put it, pretty fuckin great.   
  
Ava is the first to pull away, if only to laugh. Her hand moves from Aela’s face to her own, trying to cover her grin.   
  
“Oh no,” Aela says, pulling her hand back. “No, I made that expression i get to see it.”   
  
“You wanna see me smiling like an idiot?”   
  
“That’s my smile. The ‘I just kissed Aela’ smile.” Ava seems to bring out the mushiness in everyone. Which is strange, given her penchant for cursing, dragon-slaying, and poison making. None of which are especially, shall we say, “well mannered” habits. Aela can only imagine what the Imperial Court will say when Ava’s exploits become more well known.   
  
Now that’ll be fun.   
  
Ava leans forward while Aela is distracted, kissing her again. “Pay attention to me.” She says against her mouth.   
  
Aela growls in return, although without the bared teeth and claws its hardly a threat. The next kiss has too much teeth and laughter to really be a kiss.   
  
“You’re ridiculous.” Ava says. “Absolutely ridiculous.”   
  
“And yet you want to date me. Probably as much as I want to date you.” Aela replies, dragging her fingers down Ava’s neck, to the necklace of bone. She doesn’t have claws or even long nails in this form, but she supposes that’s a good thing right now.   
  
“Hey, Aela?” Ava asks, her voice dipping low as she leans up, her hands coming to rest on Aela’s shoulders.   
  
“Hmm?” She’s only half paying attention to her words.   
  
“That’s gay as hell.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case yall dont know your pride flags Ava has the traditional rainbow and [the lesbian pride](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/1f/73/5b/1f735b940acfdb11317ac737ae9a0efd.jpg) Vilkas is [bi](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e7/fc/64/e7fc64047912547e83cf92dbe85fe968.jpg), Farkas is[pan](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/56/78/dc/5678dc747caf907d3a68a02d45ef3e3f.jpg) , and Athis is [trans](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/52/ff/6e/52ff6e387daf9fa9c70c0ca523aedfc4.jpg)
> 
> (hopefully those links work lmao) 
> 
> anyways its almost holidays time so have fun and if you cant do that try 2 stay safe! I know a lot of us have bad situations at home and I wanna say I'm proud of you for making it thru yallre amazing and everyone says this but it actually does get better


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> romantic dates and friend dates

The whelp used to stare a lot, seeming to take in everything and anything and file it away for future reference.    
  
Ava doesn’t do that near as often, but sometimes she seems to slip back into her old self.    
  
She’s waiting for Aela near the forge, looking down at the yard. Her hair’s done up all pretty and she’s wearing a  _ dress _ but she’s still fully decked with weapons and her fingers twitch when Farkas misses a block.    
  
Aela grins.  “Ava.”    
  
She glances up, eyes glinting onyx in the sunlight. “Ae-la.” She greets, putting emphasis on the latter syllable. “Are you ready for our date?”    
  
Aela feels  _ something _ in her chest, not quite a flutter but not its usual beat either. “You have still not specified what a date constitutes of.”    
  
She clasps her hands together (and they are still stained with whatever potions she was making earlier today). “Well. I was sorta thinking we could just do whatever?”    
  
“You have no plan.” Aela reiterates, shaking her head.    
  
“Of course not.” She grins and holds out her hands. “But you wanna make dinner?”    
  
“We can cook together any day.” Aela helps her stand anyway, and kisses her cheek when she’s close enough. Ava turns the prettiest colors when flustered.   
  
Ava covers up her blushing by flashing a mischievous and pulling Aela by the hand. “But we cannot always cook food together outside Jorrvaskr.” She says. Her voice is lighter than usual, like how is after she laughs.    
  
Ava drags her through Whiterun, all the way to a house near the front gate that Aela has never  _ seen _ Ava come in or out of, but is clearly her home. There’s scuff marks on the left wall next to the entrance (most likely from trying to get up despite this roof being not ideal for climbing) and the whole place reeks of Ava and the various things she brings back from her missions. Aela had been wondering where she stored all her trash. Certainly not in the twins rooms.    
  
The whole place is positively filled with trinkets, all of the scents conflicting. Flowers and fungus and the various furs strewn across the furniture and dirt mixed with something acidic. It’s a mess of new or semi familiar scents.    
  
And while Ava notices Aela’s nose twitching as she tries to figure out what each new smell is exactly, she refrains from making a dog joke.    
  
“So I wanted to teach you how to make pizza but we don’t have an actual oven so I think I’m gonna be making chilaquiles from the leftover tortillas.” Finding out where to import chiles from was an adventure (and the answer is from southern Cyrodiil, although they use a different word).    
  
“Chilaquiles.” Aela tries to repeat. Keyword being  _ tries. _   
  
Ava snorts, “God, you can pronounce Jorrvaskr but not chile?”    
  
“I’m a Nord.” Is Aela’s explanation. She watches Ava set up whatever it is she’s making before exploring. It’s a small house, filled to the brim with a random assortment of both Ava’s stuff and the twins. So they have been here. The main bedroom is upstairs (and Aela laughs as she tries to picture Ava convincing the carpenters that shoving a single bed next to a double is the ideal setup), along with what Aela assumes is Lydia’s room.    
  
“Are you inspecting my home?” Ava calls as she descends the stairs.    
  
“Sort of.” Aela admits. Behind the stairs there’s a small pile of wood and a dinner table that could barely fit Ava and Lydia, let alone both Farkas and Vilkas. The only other room appears to be having an identity crisis, in that it’s half Ava’s alchemy lab and half a child's bedroom. Aela sniffs one of the red caped bottles curiously and winces. She color codes her poisons.    
  
The bedroom half to the room is also full of things, jewelry and sweets strewn across their night table along with a rather expensive and ornate dagger (enchanted too, by the looks of it). Only the best for the Dragonborn’s charge, Aela supposes.    
  
She heads back into the main room, her hands folded behind her back. “You have a child?” She purposely tries to not come across as accusing. She’s  _ not, _ mostly just surprised, but Ava tends to jump to the worst conclusion.    
  
Ava’s back goes ramrod straight. “A  _ what _ ?”   
  
“You have a childs bed…?”    
  
“OH.” She does that thing where she covers up negative emotions by laughing. Aela isn’t sure why she bothers to still do that, seeing as she and her fellow werewolves can smell her anxiety. “Oh, no, that’s Lucia’s!”    
  
Aela raises her eyebrows.    
  
“Here, come help me dice these and I’ll explain.” She motions for Aela to help her slice some… “Tortillas. Corn based.” Ava supplies upon seeing her expression.    
  
Aela nods. “Who’s Lucia then?”    
  
“She’s uh… I guess she could be called my daughter but seeing as she’s eleven and I’m only twenty two, you can see where that could make the both of us rather uncomfortable.” Ava says. “She used to wonder around the plains district begging for coin. I let her crash here with me, give her an allowance.”    
  
Aela can see where Ava would take an interest in helping a homeless child. “What happened to her parents?”    
  
“Don’t talk about it much. Her mama got sick and she ended up with an aunt who only wanted her so long as people kept givin her pity for taking in poor Lucia. Once that dried up things went bad. Lucia ended up in Whiterun not long after.” Ava says. “Put those is the pan when you’re done, they gotta cook a little before we add salsa.”    
  
“Where’s you learn to cook like this?” Aela asks. “ _ Salsa _ .”    
  
“I’m American. Mexican American.” She smiles. “You know, like you’re a Nord. When I moved out to Seattle my roommate went nuts for this stuff. They were real cool about, you know, being nonbinary themself.”    
  
“Hmm.” Aela hums. “We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to. There’s no reason to force yourself.”   
  
“No, I’m fine,” Ava hip bumps her out of the way. “You don’t need to make them tiny.”    
  
“I was trying to make them even.” Aela protests.    
  
Ava shoots her A Look. “For how much you tease, Vilkas you’re just as meticulous as he is.”    
  
Aela snarls. “Oh, keep your brothers out of this. This is a brother free date.”    
  
Ava giggles, shaking her head. “A brother free date? Sounds like you’ve been spending too much time with me already.”    
  
“Torvar called me dude a while ago. I think you’ve been spending too much time with him.”    
  
“We do each others nails.” Ava flattens her hand, looking over her sharp nails. Aela can’t stand it when hers are longer than her fingertip, but Ava seems to like them a more dramatic. Currently, they’re a shiny gold, chipped at the ends. “And he helps with my hair. Apparently his mom had curly hair?”    
  
Aela isn’t one for caring much about her own or others appearances, but the way Ava talks about it is just… good. She’s a calm sort of excited, watching the way the light reflects off her nails.    
  
Aela is pretty sure she could listen to Ava talk about  _ anything  _ she loves for hours, regardless of how boring she finds it within any other context.    
  
So long as Ava is happy, Aela feels good too. Like the sunshine that’s undoubtedly the cause of Ava’s warm and violent light has found a place in her too.    
  
Ava continues chattering on about Torvar keeping secrets on how to make the cream Ava uses on her hair after a shower, completely taking over the process of making chilaquiles. Aela continues to listen and watch. A bit of role reversal never hurt anyone.    
  
Ava makes them both plates, giving Aela a fair bit more meat on her plate and giving herself more of the tortilla and salsa combination. “Careful, the salsa was a little hot this time.”    
  
(by a little hot she means that Lydia was in tears as she relayed how much she loves it. Lucia tried a bite, made a face, and promptly started chugging her glass of milk)    
  
“I’m aware Nords are built for the cold but a little heat won’t hurt us, Ava.” Aela assures her before taking a bite. She expects “hot” to be temperature.    
  
She does not expect… whatever in Mara’s name is burning her mouth.    
  
Ava watches her face go from curiosity to shock.    
  
She covers her mouth, eyes wide, “Ava.”    
  
“It won’t hurt you.” She says, fighting a smile. “Like I said it’s a little hot.” She takes a big bite of hers to prove a point, even going as far as to lick her lips afterwards.    
  
Aela files that mental image for when she’s  _ not _ burning. She takes a bite of the meat offered instead, trying to get rid of the taste of the chilaquiles. “A LITTLE hot, she says.” Aela huffs.    
  
Ava wants to reply something sassy like “I love you too” but now that they’re dating it seems… unwise to be talking about love quite yet. Which she’ll admit might just be her old anxieties rearing their heads, making everything worse than it is.    
  
“Ava?” Aela asks, waving her hand.    
  
“Sorry.” She snaps back to attention.    
  
“What were you thinking about?” Aela hums, narrowing her eyes at her plate before taking another, larger bite of chilaquile.    
  
“You.” Ava answers. “I have things to do tomorrow and probably like… like next week, but you wanna go on a mission with me sometime soon?”    
  
Aela nods rather than verbally reply.    
  
Ava grins. They finish their plates in relative silence, Aela even going back for seconds and stubbornly getting herself more chilaquiles. She seems adamant about not letting the heat get to her. Ava only laughs a little bit when her date angrily wipes at her eyes, offended by the pepper induced tears.    
  
“Why aren’t you crying?” Aela demands.    
  
“You get used to it after a while.” She admits. “Farkas is a champ.”    
  
“Of course he is, that ice brain can eat anything.” Aela rolls her eyes.    
  
“Hey!” Ava snips.    
  
“I mean ice brain in the most affectionate way possible.” Aela assures. “Although you have to admit…”    
  
“Farkas is plenty smart,” She says, tilting her head up proudly. “I’ll have no one claiming otherwise in my home.”    
  
Aela holds up a hand. “Fine, fine. I would hate for our first date to be ruined by my bad mouthing your brother.” She was  _ joking _ of course, but Aela knows Ava’s tendency towards defensiveness. And who knows? Maybe it really does wear on Farkas, being called dumb all the time.    
  
Aela files that thought away for later thought, turning her attention back to Ava. “So what else are you supposed to do on these dates?”    
  
“Well. I mean.” Ava presses her lips together. “Wanna go out to the fields?”    
  
“Are you going to bring a basket for alchemy ingredients?”    
  
Ava barks a laugh. “No shit, Sherlock. Of  _ course _ , I’m making commemorative potions for our first date.”    
  


* * *

  
  
“And then she kissed me.” Ava says, clasping her hands in front of her chest.    
  
“Gross.”    
  
“Awesome.”   
  
Farkas’ face is pulled into a grimace at the thought of his baby sister kissing his long time friend, while Athis is heavily leaning towards impressed. Ava is stretched across the bed in front of them, watching Athis try and paint Farkas’ nails (he’s absolutely terrible at it, although he insisted his affection for smaller weapons made him predispositioned towards being better at it than Farkas. Dexterity and all that).    
  
“And I got some more nirnroot which is fun.” She continues.    
  
“Hate that stuff. Always ringing.” Athis says. “We didn’t have any ‘a that loud shit back in Morrowind.”    
  
“Didn’t you have like. Giant dinosaur bugs and mushroom trees though?” Ava hums, rolling onto her back.    
  
He laughs and Farkas grumbles about smudged paint. “What does nirnroot do anyway?”    
  
“It can be used in invisibility potions! And a really nasty poison, plus there’s this one dude that apparently made some sort of really good tonic out of nirnroot? He was from Cyrodiil. I’ve talked to his apprentice but not even she knows all his recipes.”    
  
“You sure do love alchemy.” Athis hums.    
  
Ava smiles. “It’s magic. Or science. Magic science.” 

“You could do actual magic if ya got some enchantments done.” Athis says.    
  
“That’s fake magic. Artificial.” She laments.    
  
“Isn’t your hair fake too?” Farkas reaches out for one of her curls and stops short remembering his nails.    
  
“First of all, fuck off. Second of all, fuck off.” Ava curls her hands into finger guns ‘fires’ one for each point she makes. “You think I should cut my hair? Like. short-short?”    
  
Athis shrugs. “You think you could pull it off?”    
  
Ava makes a face. “I don’t know about that but it might be better for practical reasons.” 

Farkas resists the urge to remind her of the many impractical decisions he’s seen her make on missions, but just barely. “Your hair is all dark naturally right?”    
  
“Mhm.” Ava confirms. “Are you almost done there, Athis? Because I’m getting tired.”    
  
“You need your big brother to sleep?” He mocks, his smile taking all of the edge off.    
  
“I don’t need him, I just… like it.” She pouts. “I’m an affectionate person.”    
  
“Hey, to each their own,” Athis says. “I couldn’t stand cuddlin this one. He’s all muscle.”    
  
Ava smothers the sound of her giggles with her hand, trying very unsuccessfully to glare at Athis. “Could you stand me?” She asks, half curious and half just to see his reaction.    
  
He purses his lips, purposefully looking Ava over. “You move a lot so I wouldn’t like that but you’re softer than your brother. Got more padding.”    
  
“That’s a wonderful way to call me chubby.” Ava pokes at the aforementioned chubbiness, not seeming at all offended.    
  
“Well  _ Aela-- _ ”   
  
“Stop right there. I’ve already had to listen to her talk about the kissing, I don’t want to hear how much Aela appreciates my  _ baby sister’s  _ bodytype.” Farkas complains, putting emphasis on their relationship.    
  
“You wanna hear how much your baby sister appreciates Aela’s bodytype?” Ava asks dryly.    
  
Farkas growls loud and irritated. “I am not above revenge, Ava. How about I tell you how Bry--”    
  
“ _ No. _ ”    


**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I remember that you can marry whoever you want in Skyrim and I just get really emotional (like I know logically its because they didn't wanna gender lock your options but nonetheless) 
> 
> Also I wanted to try out writing a romantic thing without the couple in question being the main focus. And Vilkas being a big bro is always good in my opinion 
> 
> Might continue this? ? maybe?


End file.
